Likely Normal

Meetings are the corporate world’s version of group projects—except instead of a grade, the stakes are your dignity and the will to live. There’s an entire social rulebook no one ever taught you, like how nodding solemnly while someone drones on about “synergy” is mandatory, but actually contributing ideas is strongly discouraged. And then there’s the food dilemma, a high-stakes game where one wrong move can brand you as the office pariah for life.

Picture this: You’re the only person in a meeting eating, and suddenly, you’re the center of attention for all the wrong reasons. Your salad isn’t just a salad anymore—it’s a crunchy betrayal of social norms. Every fork scrape echoes like a gunshot in the silent conference room. That one rogue almond tumbling onto the table might as well be a grenade. Meanwhile, your coworkers are either staring in judgment or secretly resenting you for having the audacity to enjoy sustenance while they slowly wither away from hunger and existential dread.

The rules of meeting food are unwritten but ironclad:

• If it’s a breakfast meeting, you can eat… but only if it’s a sad, cold pastry that doesn’t require chewing.

• If it’s a lunch meeting, you can technically eat, but only if the meeting organizer does first, like some sort of corporate alpha wolf.

• If it’s a 3 PM “quick sync”, you are legally required to pretend you don’t need food, even if your stomach growls loud enough to drown out the quarterly projections.

And let’s not forget the beverage hierarchy:
✅ Coffee – Power move. You’re busy, important, and possibly sleep-deprived.
❌ Smoothie – Too loud. The slurping haunts your coworkers’ nightmares.
🚫 Soup – Just… no. You’re not at a Michelin-starred lunch. Put the spoon down.

The worst part? The second one person starts eating, it’s a free-for-all. Like meerkats sensing safety, suddenly everyone’s pulling out snacks, and the meeting descends into a chaotic symphony of wrappers, chewing, and half-hearted apologies. “Sorry, I skipped lunch!” (No one believes you, Karen.)