What Should I do?

Hello everyone,

As promised, I am back on Steemit with a renewed strength to relate daily, based on a diary of my life.
I just got a job in a firm and it is as demanding as interesting – so, I am not considering leaving it for anything in the world. My colleagues are heaven sent; they literally care for me like they would do to a kid sister. I have been accessing free lunch for a while now solely based on their generosity.

Then, it happened last week when I was just a few days old in my new working place. Mr. Kennedy, a lady’s man as people often refer to him, sent me a text on social media which reads;

“since the day you walked through the front door, you made me fall in love with you…”.
I got really pissed after reading the message. Maybe it wouldn’t have disturbed me this much if it were a sexy looking young man who sent the message. Mr. Kennedy is a concise old man whose brevity tortures my very existence. He walks with a deliberate slowness that can create an irritation of the highest order in the most tolerant of men.

“He is married for crying out loud! What does he want from me?”
I got so furious that my temperature can boil a crate of egg. Anyways, I couldn’t wait till the next day at work, so, I replied almost immediately;

“Mr. Kennedy, your wife and children need your care and attention. Please, give them some”.

I felt so proud of myself that my strides in the office the next day came with a new style. I walked past him severally without saying hello. Soon, it was 11:59a.m and I could no longer wait to have my usual lunch which comes with a bottle of juice.

Damn!
After waiting for about 30 minutes without any sign of plates nor food, I decided to ask a colleague of mine.
“Dolapo!” I called out and continued. “what is happening today na? the usual is not here”
Dolapo stared at me for a minute as if I spoke a foreign language and therefore cannot comprehend my grammatical structure. “Becca, have you read the paper on Mr. Kennedy’s door at all”

Although I failed to see the connection between the meals and a flimsy writeup glued to Mr. Kennedy’s door, I moved towards his office in utmost curiosity. Sincerely, I earlier noticed a white paper newly placed on Mr. Kennedy’s door, but I never bothered myself to check the writeup, since I don’t want to have anything to do with him.
Amidst my doubts and fears, I looked up Mr. Kennedy’s door as advised by Dolapo. Lo and behold, the text read;

“Every action comes with a cost. Pay for yours!”

That was the end of the free lunch! This is so childish! Or what do you think?