(~3 minutes to read)

Life is too stupidly busy at the moment for me to write something fresh for this week’s article, so here’s a piece from my unpublished archives, circa 2004.

In the early 2000s, I worked as a technical writer for the IT department of a major oil and gas company. Each floor of the building had two kitchens for staff to use in storing, preparing and heating lunches (among other things). For some reason, “everyone” thought it was “someone else’s” job to clean the microwave oven. The result—microwaves with their own ecosystems.

The usual “your mum doesn’t work here” type notices had no effect, so I was asked to write something that would be effective in changing people’s attitudes to microwave oven hygiene. This was my offering. (The company was running a “number of days without lost time due to workplace incident” calendar at the time, and was proud of its record thus far. The prospect of resetting the calendar to zero days was dreaded.)

Exploded Food Responsible for Lost Time Calendar Reset

PipeGasCo Tower

Work virtually ground to a halt last week on the PipeGasCo Tower’s ninth floor after fifty-five workers succumbed to a virulent strain of food poisoning.

The bug hit at about 4:00 p.m., just as many workers were contemplating the journey home. Symptoms included vomiting, diarrhoea and elevated temperatures, all of which were so violent that none of the affected workers were able to leave the safety of the stalls into which they had locked themselves.

Washrooms on floors five to thirteen were fully occupied, with standing room only throughout. In the ninth floor hallways, those who were still mobile were faced with the need to circumvent trails of body fluids as they made their way to the elevators, concerned that they too might succumb on the C-train.

Building Services staff arrived on the scene at about 5:00 p.m. to distribute supplies of Imodium and Gravol. A few hours later, most of the victims were able to maintain sufficient control to travel to the nearest emergency rooms to receive proper treatment. The last victim left just after midnight.

Health and Safety officials have interviewed those well enough to speak, and have traced the outbreak to a microwave oven in the east side kitchen that had been used by all the victims to heat their lunches that day.

“Analyzing the matter deposited in the oven was like an archaeological dig,” said one official. “The number of layers of caked-on, exploded foodstuffs was mind-boggling. Chow mien, macaroni cheese, spinach surprise, mango munchies, road-kill goulash, hedgehog soufflé—and that was just on the inside of the door.”

It appears that some or all of the sick workers were collectively responsible for their own condition. Unaware that they were responsible for cleaning any spillage or exploded matter that they caused, they had continued using the oven. As the comestibles accumulated on the oven surfaces, harmful bacterial growth occurred, and started transferring to people’s lunches via the convective air currents and gravity.

“If only people would take responsibility for the mess that they make, and clean it up,” urged the health and safety official. “It takes seconds to wipe the surfaces clean straight away, but if you leave it, you need a jack-hammer. PipeGasCo does not allow head office staff to operate construction equipment in the tower, so we recommend a quick wipe after every use.

“In fact, we cannot stress too much the importance of a quick wipe after every use – in many situations.”

My videography business pretty well monopolizes my life from May to August, so I may be resorting to other unpublished archive items in the coming weeks. Fingers crossed that normal service will resume in September.