I did not have any. I didn’t walk over when it came. I didn’t eat any at all. There’s no plates on my desk from eating it.
There’s leftovers now. [Employee X] tells me so. He asks me “do you eat Pizza?”
My answer is “I didn’t have any Pizza.” The matter was settled and somehow I’m in the situation of giving the impression I don’t eat Pizza.
How on earth could I be an overweight citizen of the United States and not eat Pizza?
Flash of insight occurs.
I think a variation of this is why past co-workers have thought I’m gay.
That I never slobbered or joked about women. I don’t wax rhapsodic slobber over the pizza. I never remarked on “[coworker] is such a hottie” – never participated in kibitzing on attractiveness of fellow staff.
Originally written in 2015