Last night someone from Rob's work called around midnight, after we were already in bed, because he urgently needed Rob's geek-genius expertise. Rob didn't come back to bed until after 2:00. This morning I figured he deserved to sleep in a bit, so when the alarm went off I asked him if he'd like me to reset it for a few hours from now so he could sleep longer.

"Hmm, I'll have to think about it," he said sleepily.

"Okay."

"It's a tough call because if I sleep in, I'll have to sacrifice [unintelligible]."

"You'll have to sacrifice what?"

"My bagel."

See, every Friday morning Rob's work provides bagels in the kitchen for employees. The number of employees has grown dramatically since this tradition first began, but apparently the number of bagels hasn't. So only the early Friday folks can finagle a bagel.

To me, there is no competition whatsoever between a couple extra hours of sleep and a fucking bagel. But a few minutes later, Rob crawled out of bed. Apparently the man just can't resist a cinnamon-raisin circle of bread slathered in luscious cream cheese. In fact, Rob's cheerfulness every "Bagel Morning" rivals the joy Stanley receives from the annual pretzel cart on The Office.

I have to hand it to the company Rob works for. They've maximized employee productivity and satisfaction. I mean, their employees work their asses off and they are utterly pleased to receive, as a perk, one weekly bagel. (Well, the opportunity to fight for one, anyway.)

But then, Stanley's Pretzel Day contentment stems from a sense of entitlement - given all the shit he puts up with, he feels he deserves, at the very least, the "prize" of a pretzel. Similarly, I guess it makes sense that if you've spent the wee hours of the night working, you're going to make hella sure you get a goddamn bagel.