Unpopular in the Office

Popcorn in an office environment is always dicey.  If you make it perfectly, you are the belle of the office.  If you burn it, you might as well have brought tuna caserole and heated it up in the office microwave.  So here I've been, nervous about making popcorn for fear of the retaliation if I burn it.  To this end, I brought my cup of tea into the break room and watched it popping, in case I needed to snatch it out of the microwave at the first unpleasant burning smell.

Well I cooked it perfectly.  The new Orville Redenbacher stuff has this fancy red celophane on top that you can see each little kernel as it turns, magically, into popcorn.  I mean, it's fancy.  I felt very high society with my microwavable, low-fat popcorn and sat at my desk to continue my boring training about recycled concrete (wow, Lynne, pace yourself here.  First a course on traffic circles and now one on recycled concrete?  Talk about an exciting workday!), eating my popcorn with the salty delight of being in a movie theater. 

And then Franco came over... "Mrs. Lynne, can I close your door?  That smell is making me sick."  He was dead serious.  I have smelled all levels of strange come out of the break room during lunch time and any other number of smells of the smoke-laden breath of some of my co-workers but I smile and back away in that WASP-y way that I have spent a liftetime perfecting.  Alas, popcorn was a bridge too far in my office.  That buttery deliciousness was not welcome.  And so, it was with shame and sadness that I finished my little 100 calorie bag of popcorn and tossed it in the trash can outside, just to be sure that the smell didn't linger.

Who knew, popcorn cooked perfectly in the US makes you a hero.  Popcorn in Italy makes you the villan.  Italy is full of popcorn haters.  I'll miss you, Orville.