What’s in a Name

First I must explain myself. I’m not always grumpy. At times I can be borderline giddy with glee, like when someone cancels plans and I have an unexpected night to myself to watch marathon episodes of Chopped in my underwear and “accidentally” overestimate how much counts as one glass of wine.

Rather, as my mother likes to tell me, I’m “prickly”. I would like to believe this puts me in the same adorable category as hedgehogs and roses and other things worth getting familiar with despite their protective barbs. Alas, not everyone sees it this way, and sometimes I get lumped in with the rest of the grumpy population, those denizens of airport lost baggage offices and dreary cubicles everywhere (I’m looking at you, Walter from accounting).

It doesn’t help that I am afflicted with an acute (not cute) case of RBF. As the new girl in the office only one short year ago, I stood on the precipice of workplace marginalization simply because my hefty levels of interpersonal awkwardness and introversion, combined with the aforementioned affliction, easily convinced my coworkers that I was an unpleasant individual.

This is the best candid shot I could get. I’m the one on the right, scowling at the corn pudding.

So, being the enterprising go-getter that I am (ha), I came up with a solution.

FOOD.

Everyone eats. Specifically, everyone eats office food. Since few have perfected the same ninja-like precision with which I can pilfer luncheon leftovers from the break room while avoiding small-talk, communal snacks tend to bring coworkers together. Just ask Jim Gaffigan about office cake.

I might still be prickly, but at least my signature scowl is mitigated by the fact that I brought cheddar cornbread mini muffins last week. Quality of work aside, the social component of my indenture as an entry-level-millenial-corporate-type is fulfilled, because “the grumpy girl cooks!”.

Things to come:

• Recipes for work and home
• Grumpy girl roadshow (aka my travels)
• A clumsy person’s love/hate affair with yoga