The sign simply reads:
This refrigerator will be cleaned
on the following dates:
Is it just me or isn't there something inherently wrong with any appliance that is only cleaned four times-a-year? Especially one that is responsible for keeping food at a reasonable temperature so it does not spoil?
This is not an adequate schedule for cleaning.
I say this because I have personally opened the refrigerator in the break room at the radio station I work at and been attacked by living organisms which resembled cottage cheese with jaws made out of pimento loaf. And you wonder why I need Ambien to sleep?
Mamas, Don't Let Your Children Grow Up to Use Fridges
The radio station break refrigerator is a mysterious place where food disappears without a trace. It's the only true teleportation device known to man. You put your lunch in there and a few hours later is could very well be missing without a trace. Sure, you can question co-workers but they will all deny knowing anything about your egg salad sandwich. Your lunch will vanish and the only plausible explanation will come from that geek in Accounting who dresses like someone from Star Trek on Halloween.
"Teleportation," he nonchalantly tells you. "I've seen it happen before."
Thank you, Mr. Spock.
Should your sandwich happen to survive a teleportation episode, there's always the chance it will wind up being the victim of a roving mouth. You bring a plastic container with strawberries in it and leave it inside the fridge at 9:00 a.m. By noon, the count has decreased faster than Joy Behar can berate a Republican. Sorry, too late: "Bangkok's got him now." Actually, it's worse: the dweeb in Sales who wipes his nose with his hand has got them now. While you weren't looking his microbe-covered fingers dipped into your container and helped himself to part of your lunch.