In a powerful display of collective apathy toward personal health and basic food safety, employees at MetroDyne Solutions devoured an unmarked bag of Corn Pops found in the lunch room Tuesday, despite having no information regarding its origin, age, or level of sentience.
The cereal, discovered in a loose, Ziploc-style bag with visible condensation and “the unmistakable aura of a divorce dad’s pantry,” was put in the center of a table and instantly swarmed like a fresh kill on the Serengeti.
“It was gone in minutes,” said one horrified witness. “No one even asked who brought it. Someone just said ‘Corn Pops,’ and everyone immediately accepted death.”
Experts estimate that the bag contained at least 14 individual handfuls of cereal, each of which was taken by a bare hand belonging to a person who definitely checked ‘always wash hands’ on their last HR hygiene survey.
“I didn’t really want it, but everyone was grabbing, so I felt left out,” said staff accountant Melissa, who described the experience as “hand-to-mouth peer pressure with a hint of childhood trauma.”
Several employees reportedly stood around the bag dipping in repeatedly, silently pretending they weren’t aware of each other’s bacteria count.
“It was like communion, but with more germs and less spiritual purpose,” said Kyle from IT, whose immune system is “absolutely not prepared for this level of chaos.”
Notably, the Corn Pops were consumed despite having the texture of “something that had been opened during Obama’s second term.”
“I don’t know how long they’d been there, but they tasted… vintage?” said Daisy from marketing, who later admitted that “vintage” means “stale but comfortingly sad.”
Nobody has claimed responsibility for the cereal, though theories range from “forgotten kid snack” to “bag someone found in their car and gave up on.”
The office health coordinator issued a statement urging employees to “stop eating unidentified food from communal surfaces,” adding, “This is how pandemics start, you animals.”
Employees, however, largely disagreed.
“I don’t care if it was poison,” said project manager Andre, grabbing the final handful from the bottom of the bag. “It was free.”
As of press time, the group was seen hovering around a suspicious Tupperware labeled “Buffalo Chicken Dip?” that had already produced two casualties and one marriage proposal.