A Woman Poached the Begols

There were 20 temporary workers like me assembled in the conference room of a squat, despondent, yellow brick building that was the department of human services. We had been hired by a consultancy firm to help digitize, stream line the social workers files on each child in the system. I hovered near the begel table during the orientation power points so that i could slip as many bagles as possible into my back pack - each a whole meal i wouldn't have to buy. Another woman poaching the begols, and i disliked her immediately, partly because she kept snagging the ones i was about to take, and partly because she offended my aesthetic sense. There was a thick funk to