Free Pizza

I know there is pizza in the office.
I smell its cheesy goodness. The odor wafted out of the keep-warm sleeve the delivery guy had the 10 or 15 pizzas in. He walked right by, unaware of the knots forming in my stomach, my mouth getting moist, anticipating the pizza. But I am not involved in whatever project warrants the meeting of several people over pizza (it’s probably something to waste the money of the average college student since he/she’ll never use it) so I do not get a piping hot slice of the pizza of my choice. Instead I sit in my cubicle, waiting for the email that will be issued when the assistants get around to it, saying “there’s leftover pizza in the conference room.” And I will jump up, ignore the stare of my boss, and get to the stone-cold pizza before everyone. I will take two slices, because I want two slices. And a Coke. I will feast on the company’s dime. Ha ha ha!
But if the meeting drags on for a long time, I won’t get the pizza, since I have my own meeting to attend. Then I will sit in my meeting, bored AND dying to know if there’s any pizza left. I can’t pretend to go to the bathroom, because if I come back reeking of cheese, garlic and diet Coke, they’ll know. But I can’t let people have the free pizza. People who get paid more than me should NOT be able to eat for free. The lowest-paid staff should get first dibs on all freebies. This is my theory. The department heads should have the table-scraps since they can go to their nice houses within 4 zones on the commuter rail at night, drive their newish Honda minivans to pick up their kids and buy expensive take-out. At night I go to my ghetto-ass gym, work out, get on the train, walk home and eat whatever food I can find since I can’t afford to buy my own damn pizza.
The email has not come. I fear there shall be no pizza for me.