Stuffed to the gills

I work with engineers. I’m not an engineer, I just answer the phone and correct their grammar (the engineers’ grammar, not that of the people on the phone. Unless I’m feeling particularly cranky.)

Anyway, engineers are funny people. Sometimes even hilarious. At Christmas they had a competition. The week before the holidays, they all weighed in (on a scientifically calibrated scale, of course). When we came back this Monday they weighed in again. The people who gained the most and least weight over the break won. The prize is that all the other competitors take them out to lunch.
Funnily enough, all the competitors were male. There are a few females in the lab, but we disdained such childish fun and games. And the notion of having our most private numbers totted up and bandied about for all to see.

So the results were out on Tuesday. The winner gained three pounds, the loser somehow managed to lose three pounds, and all the numbers were put into a spreadsheet where you could see everyone’s details, as well as means and modes and breakdowns of net weight gained and lost in the group according to ethnic heritage (we’ve a lot of Indians here, and for some reason they lost weight instead of gaining; maybe it was the stress of being far from home when everyone else was being stuffed to the gills by their mothers).

I know I didn't participate, but I wonder would they still let me tag along for the prize lunch?