Tired with eating Kraft Easy Mac, or leftovers from home, disdaining the expensive (and food-poisoning prone) cafe in the lobby, myself and two of my corporate co-cogs decided to slip out of the Office’s half-floor office, out of the building, and make our way across the street to the corporate headquarters of Marriott, where, rumors tell, there be good eatin’s to be found in the employee cafeteria.
The kernel for this adventure was planted last summer, by a guy we’d all worked with, a brash team lead from New York who could seemingly talk his way into or out of any situation, and bragged about how he had free access to Marriott’s HQ gym: simply, he just walked in, did his work out, then showered and came to work. (Also, he was a jerk and I was glad when he went on to brighter pastures).
Part of me was super excited and eager for our attempt at food-espionage (foodnage?). On the other hand, part of me was worried that big hulking guys wearing shirts labeling them SECURITY would beat the crap out of us and leave us on the sidewalk for the police to collect. But we walked across the road (nearly got run over, because we weren’t in the crosswalk and the light turned green, and suffice to say we all knew better), and walked up to the rear of the building, walked up to the loading dock and into the doors.
How many people issued us a challenge? How many people asked us for our IDs?
None. And none. And in addition to the assorted delivery people wheeling carts of food and sodas and supplies around, there were some middle-manager looking folks out there, too, just not any who thought, “Hmm, these don’t look like corporate hotel cogs! They look like IT startup cogs!”
In fairness, there is an actual Marriott hotel next door, so I’m sure a lot of the in-house hotel staff stop over for lunch, which might explain why no one thought it odd we weren’t wearing IDs. I don’t know.
Let me say this about the Marriott: their cafeteria? Gorgeous! I mean, like there and then, standing, I thought, “Wow, I want to work here.” It was like a miniature food court: there was a grill station, a sushi station, a fish station … I opted for a bacon cheeseburger and fries, and while the burger was small, it was also tasty — and cheap! A similar sized burger in the cafe downstairs would run me twice as much.
After we’d paid, and were seated in the dining area, all three of us just sort of marveled at how simple it had all been. It was like that time, back in 2000 or 2001, when I delivered a lot of pizzas to a defense contractor, AAI, in Cockeysville, MD. I was required to have an armed escort to the meeting room, and I walked past a ton of UAVs (this was before they were front-page news on CNN). After delivering the pizza, the guy with the gun asked if I could find my way back out, and then trusted me not to steal a drone. Trust me, if I’d known what they were, I would have!
I guess we looked like Marriott’s corporate cogs, although I was wearing cargo pants and sneakers. We all agreed we would have to sneak over more often — I mean, really, the food was really good — and on our way back (we left through the main entrance), even remarked on how easy it would be for one or two people to sneak in the backdoor, come up the stairs as the group tried to enter, and then wave them through, “Oh, it’s okay, they’re with us!” Then blend together, and if questioned in the cafeteria, just all go with, “Oh, I don’t know — who set this up? Mary? Mary with Marriott, I think? Oh, I think Bill was the contact person on our end — where’s Bill? He’s not in today? Well, poo.”
I think my job would be a lot more fun if my LinkedIn profile said: “Snay is a senior research analyst tasked with investigating how to sneak into areas where he is unauthorized to be”, as opposed to: “Snay is a senior research analyst tasked with boring himself to death five days a week.”
Let me tell you — this Marriott adventure? Made my week. Next: how to sneak into the White House!
