There’s a girl walking around the office with a hot cocoa cart. She has the coveted drank as well as marshmallows and mini candy canes. Think of her as sign from God amidst incompetent sales reps and nit-picky Podiatrists.

I didn’t want to appear too excited, because it was after all just a dixie cup of heated chocolate water I was after, so I slyly peered over my cubicle as she inched closer and closer. She was workin’ 14th Ave. She was one cube away now. “Would you like marshmallows?” “Would you like a candy cane?” “I just love the smell of marshmallows!!!!” “The candy cane gives it a nice peppermint kick!” “Don’t you just LOVE HOT COCOA?”

She saw me creepin’ on her cart over my messy cube, my bunker made of unread memos and Post It to dos. I saw her see me, she saw me seeing her see me, and I saw that she saw me see her see me. Without a word to me she turned her gleeful little ass around and moved her cart to 13th Avenue! She asked Angie B. point blank, “Would you like some hot cocoa!!!?” My jaw dropped. And my heart.

Rumor on 14th Ave has it my pod is too small for her cart. That is bull crap! I see people much bigger than her cart mosey on by me all the time.

That is podism.