We’ve all belonged to at least one club during our lifetime. There are ski clubs, chess clubs, stamp clubs, debate clubs, tennis clubs, book clubs, foodie clubs, bridge clubs; the list goes on. You have no doubt heard of all of the aforementioned clubs, but I bet you have never heard of this one: The We Hate Wendy Miller Club.
Fortunately for Wendy, it is not a very big club. There are only four members, consisting entirely of her coworkers, but what they lack in numbers they make up for in venom. Gary despises Wendy because she fired his best friend at the office five years ago. Jim loathes her because every third report she hands in contains at least one typo. Michael can’t stand how her voice reminds him of a Valley Girl with a perpetual head cold. While Peter – well, he just thinks she’s an idiot, plain and simple, for not knowing how to create an Excel spreadsheet and other basic things he feels that someone in lower management should know. They’d give anything for upper management to can her, even undergo a prostate exam, root canal and tax audit all in one day; only the powers that be think she’s wonderful.
The guys think it must have something to do with her baking. Every Monday morning, Wendy brings in a tray of goodies that she bakes up the night before. The woman can bake, they’ll give her that, but it’s not as if she’s Julia Child. The treats are usually gone from the staff kitchen by nine-thirty and it pleases Wendy to know that she brings a little joy to what is, for many, the hardest day of the work week.
“Idiot, plain and simple,” Peter will tell you because a bulk of those goodies are scooped up by one of the club members for the group to eat later on that evening during their weekly meeting. Tonight, the guys are stuffing their faces with chocolate chip cookies. It’s extremely difficult to eat just one of Wendy’s cookies. Cookies this soft and chewy, this sweet and chocolately must be enjoyed by the handfuls.
“Thanks for, like, feeding us Wendy. These cookies are so awesome! I mean, totally, for sure,” Michael says in his best Wendy voice.
What the men don’t realize is that Wendy knows they hate her, and she knows that they’re the ones who swipe most of her baked goods. That’s why this week she substituted some of the chocolate chips for chopped up laxatives. One cookie won’t hurt the modest eaters of the office, but the guys?
As Wendy sees it, one sick day for each of them is a lot cheaper for the company than the four severance packages it would have to pay out should Wendy have them fired for harassment. So eat up gentlemen, eat up.