I grab a cookie twice and immediately there is shame | column Herman Sandman

They’re in front, yes. And it has to go. But even then it feels uncomfortable to grab a cookie twice. I don’t want it, it makes me fat and yet I do it.

We have a meeting. The semi-annual plenary. The ups and downs of our company, more precisely the editorial staff, are discussed, briefly summarized as ‘where to, for what’. I say as little as possible and listen to colleagues who are much better than me at expressing what they think of what and sometimes that is like cabaret.

The plenary is usually outdoors and in recent years in a beautiful location just outside the city. An upstairs room in a restaurant, among the greenery on the banks of a large lake.

Coffee is ready for us. And cakes. I don’t want coffee, I do want a cake and take a seat at the side of a row, by a window, with a view of the water. The sun is shining and the wind is blowing.

The chairman asks if everyone has registered. I don’t have that, so I hang my jacket over the back of the chair and walk back to the entrance of the room. There are others who have forgotten and I wait for my turn to put my name in a box and my signature in the box behind it.

When I walk back to my seat I pass the table with coffee and biscuits again and grab another. The same. Because they are tasty.

As I do that I am immediately overcome with shame about my greed, my indulgence and hope no one sees it. I don’t want it, it’s too much fat, too many carbs and too much sugar and yet I do it. Weird.

I don’t even know what kind of cake it is. A round with chocolate or raisins.