Due to the threat of severe weather, the all-staff picnic was moved indoors to the Pub. When severe weather failed to manifest, we decided to sit outside, and I agreed to hold down a table while MBWF, C., and S. went through the line and grabbed food. My entire chest thudded with anxiety while I waited: There is something about abundance that produces a sensation of scarcity. When it was my turn I snagged a veggie burger, a scoop of couscous, a scoop of potato salad, a cookie, and a scoop of baked beans. We ate and talked (K. had joined us by now), comparing this staff picnic to the last staff picnic, comparing first jobs and last jobs, comparing ketchup and mustard and who prefers what. The revelation that my refrigerator contains not one single condiment beyond the soy sauce I use in just the one single recipe drew gasps from the crowd. Then S. went back inside and grabbed herself a cookie, plus one for me and one for MBWF. We wondered: Is this why MBWF hired an assistant after all?