This elicits a response from the employees that even Jack Hannah would be fascinated to document and share on one of his animal behavior shows. Because nothing else in the work place can bring out the animal-like feeding frenzy that a box of Krispy Kreme's can. NOTHING.
First, much like a lioness who first catches the scent of a nice juicy zebra, employees first catch a whiff of the donuts as they are brought into the building. You can tell when this happens because people's heads, once hunched over their terminal as they struggle against the monotony of their daily routine, suddenly become upright and alert. Slowly you will notice pairs of eyes begin to peer carefully over the cubicle walls, pupils darting from side to side and nostrils flaring alertly as they try to determine the direction in which their prey is heading. If they can determine the path of the donuts, it gives them a much needed advantage over the other members of their herd. By moving first, they may be able to outrun the rest of the pencil-pushers, because much like a jungle cat will pass up a skinny zebra for a plump one, the employee does not want to end up with a plain donut if they can get one that is jelly-filled.
At the same time, members of the donut-seeking herd begin to coil their body into a position in which they can immediately spring into action at the first sign of the white and pink bakery boxes. If you've seen cats waiting to pounce, you will notice that they will stay low and out of sight, with only their hind end wiggling to indicate they are about to shoot out of their hiding place and attack. This is also true with some members of the employee herd, who in their excitement for the donuts will start to wiggle their ass and shift their feet from side to side.
Then the donuts scamper into the open. The employees first all get very still, seemingly enthralled by the image of their next meal. Their breathing gets heavier, and spittle begins to form at the corners of their mouths.
Then, suddenly, the herd of employees moves in one, thunderous wave. The ground shakes, and papers fly. It is survival of the fittest as the hungry employees push and elbow their way to the front of the line.
The boxes, once so pristine, get torn apart in a moment of savage need. Crumbs fly everywhere as rabid accountants battle over their favorites - fritters, old fashions, and maple bars. Someone inevitably will growl as someone else tries to grab a donut they wanted. The largest of the herd will most likely shove an entire chocolate-covered cake donut into his mouth, smearing bits of sprinkles on his face, as he grabs another one to drag back to his lair for later.
Weakness or hesitation is punished here. You will notice one of the dominant bitches of the herd, wearing 5 inch stilettos and a power suit, slap a timid older woman wearing sensible flats and a medic alert bracelet when she gets too close to the last of the cinnamon glazed. The timid woman will cry out but wait her turn in the pecking order, ending up with a plain, smashed donut that no one else wanted because someone licked off all the icing.
Even when all the donuts are gone, a few of the herd will still circle, opening up the empty boxes and sniffing around for crumbs or anything that others may have overlooked. They are spurred on by the soft grunting sounds coming from the cubicles as people finish scarfing down the last of their prize.
After the eating frenzy, the herd will visit the watering hole also called the corporate john, where they will groom themselves by picking stray donut crumbs out of their hair and wiping off the sticky remnants of glaze they were unable to suck off of their fingers. They then return to their desks - their natural habitat - where they are first invigorated by the sugar high, only to experience a crash a short time later that makes them want to curl up under their desks and sleep through the winter.
This week's battle is over. Until next Friday.