So, it's Thursday. Just a normal day at the office. The department nearest to me is in their annual crunchtime, so around 2pm an email went out (I get their broadcast emails) saying, "In order to pick up everyone's spirits, we're having a popcorn party! Come by Email Author's desk and pick up a bag to microwave!!!"
Okay, first, lame party.
Second, did you really just invite 40 people to microwave popcorn at the same time on the 20th floor of a closed-window highrise? Smell-o-rific!
Now, I must say that I despise the smell of microwave popcorn, especially at work. I put up with the smell; there is at least one bag of popcorn nuked (and often burnt) on my floor on a daily basis. You put up with it much like you put up with the woman who smells like she got dressed in a humidor and then transported to work via cigarette-smoke filled pneumatic tube. But when there are bags and bags and bags and bags of microwave popcorn stinking up your workspace? You. Must. Evacuate.