The trend is nothing new.
As I have mentioned previously, the fact of modern warfare has changed. Things are no longer civilized. Disputes are no longer commenced with white-glove slaps exchanged between gentle people.
We are in a new era, the era of Guerrilla Blobfare.
The enemy is all around us, folks. On Friday I was greeted by the man in the black pajamas.
I am now officially in a conflict waged not only by a regular army of known co-workers who bake but also by armed civilians where the armed civilians use tactics such as ambush, sabotage, the element of surprise, and extraordinary mobility to strike your favorite vulnerable target and withdraw almost immediately, never being forced to observe the carnage of greasy fingers and crumb filled suit lapels they leave me suffering.
The strategy and tactics of the guerrilla enemy focused around the use of a small, mobile force of one competing against a large, unwieldy, blobular force of, well, me. Tactically, the guerrilla avoided any overt confrontation with large offerings of fatty foods offered at high, easily-resistable prices, and distant, inconvenient locations. Rather, this guerrilla sought for and eliminated small groups of dieting co-workers to weaken our strength and to cause us to eventually no longer be able to prosecute the War on Office Sweets, forcing us to succumb.
It is often misunderstood that guerrilla warfare, as it pertains to the War on Office Sweets, must involve disguising as co-workers, even health-conscious co-workers, to cause enemy dieters to fail in telling friend from foe. However, this is a not a primary feature of a guerrilla war. This type of war is now being practiced by any combatant where such advantage can not be made use of by an insider co-worker, the more conventional force.
A woman – not even a recognizable uniform soldier from my office – was promoting her new business by bringing neighboring businesses a complimentary BOX OF COOKIES. Not just any box of cookies either. Not a mere plastic tray of Oreos, or paper bag of Mint Milanos, or even a box of Somoas detailing the Girl Scout camping trip I am supporting by inhaling these delectable confections. No. These cookies came from a locally known arms dealer in the War on Office Sweets: Tiff’s Treats.
I was already taken down one other time last week by these stealthily unexpected weapons when co-worker received them as a gift on her last day of work. But this time was different. Even more unexpected, since they were given for no predictable reason. Also, folks, this time the things were STILL WARM. Warm. Chocolate. Chip. Cookies.
I ate two.
[All smart-sounding stuff credit: Guerrilla warfare.]