Chapter 3The Disputed Refrigerator

Back at the office, I laid out the whole mess to Christine.

Her expression morphed from confusion to rage to pity.

"Lisa's mother-in-law is one tough cookie. Heard from the grapevine that she could really put on a show, and got her family wrapped around her little finger.

"And Lisa? Always looking to score a freebie. We usually turn a blind eye, but now she's ditched her dignity for some quick cash... Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree!"

Christine said, shaking her head and making a face.

Finally, she patted my hand, all sage-like, "Mia, take it as a pricey life lesson—sometimes you gotta pay to learn."

I nodded and steadied myself.

I fired up my computer and put through another request.

This time, I was gunning for a swap from the mini-fridge to a big, double-door fridge.

I'd cover the electricity myself and offered it up for the team to use, at no charge, just kept the final say on its usage and upkeep to myself.

Within half an hour, green light—request granted.

Listed the old mini on eBay straight away and dipped into my emergency fund for a brand-spanking new double-door.

The next day was delivery day for the big guy.

Found a sweet spot for it right in the break room corner.

During installation, it turned into quite a spectacle.

Christine, puzzled, quizzed me, "Mia, after that Lisa fiasco, why spring for a bigger fridge?"

I just chuckled. "It's all about harmony, right? Step back to leap forward."

As I caught the curious glances, I took the floor:

"Listen up, everyone. I needed a spot for some personal health items, hence the new fridge. All paid out of my own pocket, including the power—it's all above board.

"You've probably caught wind of the mini-fridge drama. A few days back, Lisa asked to store her breast milk in it. She later claimed it malfunctioned, ruining the milk and supposedly sickening her kid enough for a hospital run.

"Her family hit me with the bill. Didn't think a good deed would stir up such a storm.

"Seeing how everyone struggles with their lunch setups, I figured a bigger fridge would help. Feel free to use it, if you'd like. Just hoping...,"

I paused, lips pursed, shoulders up in a helpless shrug.

Christine didn't miss a beat, "I'm signing up first. Been through too many lunch bags; they just don't cut it in this heat. You're offering this for free, after shelling out for the fridge? Can't thank you enough."

As she spoke, nods of agreement from the lunch crew.

My voice cracked a bit, eyes misty:

"We're all in this together, no need for formalities. Just to sidestep any potential hiccups, if you wanna store something, give me a heads-up online. Let's agree the fridge is strictly for clean, wholesome eats. I'm hands-off on whatever's stored inside."

Consensus reached in no time.

The fridge started filling up fast.

Some folks began bringing extra treats—fruits, ice creams, always tossing a bit my way.

Christine even snagged a small organizer just for my health bits.

Thanks to this new fridge, a new warmth buzzed among us.

The chill from the mini-fridge scandal slowly thawed.

Days later, Lisa clocked back in.

Turns out, her son's "severe" diarrhea? Not even hospital-worthy.

Her mother-in-law tried to hustle me for more dough, claiming the bills were short.

Asked her for a breakdown, she clammed up, so I clamped down—no cash without proof.

Lisa turned into the office broadcaster, lamenting about her son's drastic dehydration and vanished baby fat...

Throughout the day, she'd replay her tale, oblivious to everyone's polite disinterest.

Christine finally snapped, "Lisa, save the soap opera for after hours—we've got deadlines!"

Lisa scoffed and stalked off with her pump.

She hovered around the break room fridge, pacing back and forth.

I was pretty sure she saw the note I tacked on the fridge door.

It stated simply:

"Lisa Argal is prohibited from using this fridge."