Kalah Allen

Dear not-so-well-meaning coworker: The break-room table is not your free box. In the tradition of Portland, please deliver your unwanted items curbside and set them in a cardboard box. No one is going to eat those two heels from a loaf of bread left stranded in a sea of clutter. The secretaries like cake, but won't touch the leftovers from your friend's baby shower that had the frosting roses picked off before their arrival to our place of work. And I've never seen anyone wear one of—or even pick through—the pile of stretched-out polo shirts you brought in a while back. The break room is for relaxing. It's not supposed to remind us of visiting hoarder relatives. The only good thing is that you leave your coupon mailers, which I see as confetti celebrating the possibility that one day there will be so much stuff that the table will collapse and no longer be available to hold your "someone might like this" optimism.—Anonymous