The Happy Habit

Eden’s twitching so early near the start of the workday was getting to her co-worker/bestie Shira. “What’s got you jumpier than a Calaveras County frog after its fifth cuppa strong full-caf java?”

“My 6 months is up” she gasped, her voice as upset as her tortured expression.

“And? I’m in month 7 of my gig.”

“How many months did they set you up for?”

“Originally it was 4. But there’s some clause in some contract where if Sad Trombone finds another pube in her teeth or on her clothes or thinks she has or needs trauma counseling from it or something, then my thing gets extended.”

Plink

“Not that I‘m complaining or anything” she added, just before popping the new arrival, a Lemon Truffle with warped white lines, into her mouth.

“That’s the thing! I’m supposed to be relieved and happy that this excessive chocolate consumption ordeal is over, but I’m totally not! I… I love this job! I can’t imagine going back to a life not eating so many wonderful high-quality chocolate candies each work day, and no way can I ever afford to buy as many as I eat here at work at retail!”

The knock knock at the door was warning rather than permission-seeking: soon as it ended, Wes Easter walked right in. “Good morning Team Defect Processors.”

“G’morning Wes.”

Eden’s response was nonverbal cowering and a pleading expression with her best Grade A puppy dog eyes.

“Eden was just telling me how much she’s grown to love this job.”

“Delightful! Well, both of you have another two weeks of this to which to look forward, at least, if that’s what each of you want.”

“Yes please!” Eden shouted.

Shira had no problem remaining calm in demeanor and voice, “If she’s in, I’m in.”

“Excellent. As one facet of our caring about the well-being of our employees, it’s time for each of you to undergo routine blood work and a basic physical exam. You may do so with your existing health care providers or we can connect you with ours, as long as whomever orders the blood work orders the tests whose results we need to see.”

“Isn’t that private personal information?”

“Yes. However, you two are in a high-risk occupation, in terms of consuming foods we make which are intended as occasional treats, desserts, or snacks, not the equivalent of daily meals as it usually is for a Defect Processor. Legal had us put in each of your contracts those clauses you each should have read whereby we perform this testing and have our medical consultant review the results at least annually to ensure your work here is not deleteriously affecting your health, and if it is shown to so be, working with you and your healers to at least mitigate if not reverse the issue or issues. In some cases we may need to terminate employment especially for employees preferring to seek other opportunities, or if not that, reassign to some other position with minimal or no product consumption.”

“Hhhhhh!” Eden gasped loudly. “How will I go on?!”

“We do have a detox program, for anyone finding themselves unable to continue consuming our products at scale despite wishing to do so. As far as I know we haven’t had to use it yet, but it is in place and periodically reviewed.”

Her eyes went wide. “I seriously don’t know if I can handle that reality!”

“Just relax” Wes smiled serenely. “No need for any of us to get worked up about things which have not yet happened and may not ever happen. Keep doing all you already do to stay healthy, and let’s get these tests going so we can work with hard medical science-based facts rather than anxiety-inducing conjecture and guesses.”

Never a fan of medical exams or tests, Eden Offen certainly was no more of one as a now-fat woman. She’d read enough horror stories in the online fatlovesex fora to keep her away for a lifetime, were it not necessary for the job she initially loathed, and had now come to love. Shira went with her to do what they did well for each other: mutual support. Neither had had a doctor with whom they were pleased, making it easy to accept near-same-time appointments with the company’s preferred provider.

Though she knew her measurements quite well (thanks to the necessity of ordering and buying clothes which fit properly), Eden hadn’t been on a scale since well before starting at See’s.

“Two hundred, sixty three pounds” the synthesized voice of the digital scale intoned for all within earshot to hear: Eden on the scale, Cissy the 20-something twiggy nurse with a bobbling butt working with her, and one or two office workers whose names she’d not memorized.

“What?” she asked no one in particular, shocked.

“Different than you expected?” asked Cissy.

“I wasn’t even 170 before I started this job, and that alone was considered thick at my height.”

Cissy reviewed the height number she’d just written down. “Yeah it would be.”

“I was reading online that it’s basically not possible to gain more than 60 pounds of actual fat and bone and other permanent stuff versus in-body food and water weight gain and temporary stuff.”

“Don’t know where you read that. Is a 93 pound gain in half a year unusual? Extremely so. Impossible? Nope—and you’re living proof. Almost no one eats several pounds of premium chocolates all day every working day. Ready to meet our friendly vampire Elvira?”

“What?!”

“That’s her actual given name. She’s our phlebotomist, very good at what she does.”

This Elvira was nothing like the 1970s or thereabouts L.A. television personality: 36C breasts at most, much shorter hair than TV Elvira’s Morticia Addams meets 1970s Joan Jett hairstyle. Looking away from the seemingly endless series of vials and breathing calmly, Eden barely felt a thing.

Shira had a lot more fun with the staff when they did her exam. They didn’t know what to think with how pleased she seemed to be hearing the 292 pound result for her weight.

Knock knock

“Eden: your medical results are in. Follow me to my office, please?”

“Can’t we do it in here with Shira?!” she shallow-breath panted in panic.

“I know you two are as tight as peanuts and chocolate in our Milk and Dark Peanuts candies, but this and the similar meeting I’ll have with Shira immediately afterwards really do need to be one-on-ones.”

There were numerous places along the path between the Defect Processor workroom and Wes Easter’s office where Eden of necessity had to drop back behind him rather than walk side-by-side. {I so hope this isn’t the last time I get to stare at your sexy ass} she caught herself thinking, for one brief moment when she wasn’t on the threshold of a full-blown anxiety attack.

“Go ahead and have a seat” he smiled, soon as they were in his office with the door closed.

He didn‘t know what to make of her hesitation.

“Something wrong?”

“No! This is a very nice chair: sturdy, and… unexpectedly wide in the seat.”

“We want our employees to be comfortable. If I may say so, you are not the only one working here who sits pretty with more than what some smaller standard chairs can accommodate.”

She went ahead and sat down. It was nearly as comfortable as her overstuffed work chair, which she and Shira figured out were actually a pair of small loveseats.

“Have you had a chance to review your medical workup results?”

“No. I…. Too anxious. I’ve been too stressed about it.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that. Here” he slid a printed copy over to her.

“Thank you, but… this really doesn’t mean too much to me.”

“You are a very impressive person, Eden. Medically, Dr. Butters reports that you’ve maintained amazingly resilient insulin sensitivity.”

“Meaning?”

“You’re about as insulin-sensitive as the majority of the population in good health, none of whom have a work-related diet remotely like yours. One big fear we have with many employees is how common it is to develop insulin insensitivity, which as you may know is a or the major factor for metabolic syndrome and type 2 diabetes.”

She’d heard some things like this, but had never paid attention. She continued listening attentively.

“It’s almost like you and your body are made to eat chocolate-centric candy all the time. At least high-quality candy made from the finest, purest ingredients using traditional recipes with no additives, preservatives, nor artificial anything, as we do here. Go work elsewhere for one of the major multinationals and your results may differ” he couldn’t help grinning.

“So does this mean that I get to sign on being a Defect Processor permanently, pllleeeeaaaasse?!”

“Well that is one option. Here’s another to consider: What would you think about moving to product development? Initially you’d be taste-testing new offerings under development, not all of which will be on the mark by any means. We value good employees, wanting to retain the best for the long-term. On this basis we offer or enable training for positions requiring greater knowledge and skills. Should you choose this path, you would start with work similar to what you’re doing now, other than new items being developed and perfected rather than production defects. With sufficient training and over time, you would be eligible to become part of the team creating these new products, sometimes adapting classic old recipes for the limitations of modern high-quality ingredients, other times inventing wholly new creations—always pure, always with real food ingredients, not artificial synthetics. Is this at all of interest?”

“What about Shira?”

“That needs to be private between me and her until after she and I meet, and which point you two are welcome to share as you usually do. I can tell you that I’m hoping she chooses to remain with the company, and like you, she has options.”

“I‘m…. I….”

“Anything I can do to make this easier? I’m very interested in whatever it is you’re struggling to share.”

“I’m addicted to the great candies we make!” she blurted out before again losing her nerve. “The product development path sounds very exciting and like something I’d like to do, but I really want to be on a team with Shira if at all possible, and I’d much, much rather continue eating several pounds of our candy a day than go through any detox.”

“As long as you’re able to maintain your health with us at the company doing our part in a supportive role, it’s in our best interest to have you eating as many of our products as you can and want in ways that benefit the company. I see no reason that we can’t move you into a combination position where some days or hours of days you’re eating development samples, other times you’re out on the floor doing QA taste testing, and still other times and maybe on days and hours when we hit production snags, you’ll be back in the Defect Processor workroom doing what you do so well. We’re delighted with your work for us this past half year, but don’t want you to burn out or become bored. Depending what Shira wants once I’ve spoken with her, it may be an option for you and her to still have one or more days a week doing what you two do now together on the same shift as now, then other days working together or apart with fresh, stimulating newer challenges. Mixing it up like our assortment boxes, if you will.”

Eden Offen had never heard nor thought of such a thing as a jobgasm, though it sure felt like she was on the edge of one!

Eden buttonholed Shira the moment she returned from her meeting with Mr. Easter. “Whadid he say?! Whadid he say?!”

“He’s interested in me continuing with the company, so whatever Sad Trombone and friends are or are not doing is no longer relevant to me or anyone here. He did share that you want to keep working with me, and I told him and am telling you now that—surprise—I want to keep working with you, Squishy BFF. Any interest in doing split jobs, where we do all of the product development, QA, and Defect Processor positions?”

“Fuck yes!”

“That‘s what I told my backup FWB the other night.”

“Let’s go tell Wes right now!”

“Ya think we should get into a 3-way with him here at work?!”

“No! About our careers, Boob Babe!”

Wes was more than happy to oblige. Together the 3 of them worked through the legalities and contracts. The See’s Candies Los Angeles factory now had two new skillful, talented, and motivated full-time career employees.