Hey, are you going to eat that?

Managing Editor Mike Colombo writes about office refrigerators.

Community refrigerators are a microcosm of people’s dining preferences as well as breeders of bacteria. That’s why nearly anytime people in any workplace share a fridge, the following sign or a derivative will be posted on the front door: “This fridge will be cleaned out every day. Take your stuff home or it will be thrown away.”

Some kind refrigerator Nazis will give you a week to finish off the bologna and string cheese before it ends up in the trash. It’s understandable.

In the newsroom we have one of those little square refrigerators, but it’s amazing how much toxic material can be stored in there.

I almost never use it, and my stuff seldom stays in there long. If I bring something for lunch I usually eat it by 10:30 a.m. That then requires me to run to Taco Bell for a second lunch.

Years ago, the fridge had turned into a stinky bomb, and I, who am nearly never the Nazi, just started throwing out stuff.

Someone had left nearly a pound of good deli roast beef to putrefy into a beef slurry. There was cheese that turned from cheddar to Limburger.

I was a little mystified. There is someone who would buy roast beef and let it rot in the refrigerator?

In fairness, the fridge does get a little cluttered, so maybe the roast beef got pushed behind the bottles of unknown substances.

While writing the column, I opened the small refrigerator and warily peered inside.

On the door alone, there was the standard box of baking soda, a spray can of whipped topping, soy sauce, Italian dressing, barbecue sauce, ranch dressing, Dijon mustard, ginger sauces, dumpling sauce and a few other goodies. All that, mind you, was on the door, of a small square refrigerator.

The big shelves were stocked with a full spectrum of goodies, including what looked to be months-old store bought potato salad in the plastic container, bleu cheese dressing (why do they always spell it “bleu”?), containers of this and jars of that.

We don’t have a sign on the newsroom refrigerator. Periodically, news editor Heather Koon will methodically go through it and throw out Alexander Fleming’s penicillin experiment. The advertising fridge is another issue. It does have the note on the front and is overseen by women who will heartlessly toss out week-old ham and a nearly spent bottle of Italian dressing. For most of our days at my palatial Robin Hood Road estate, having too much stuff in the fridge at home hasn’t been too much of a problem. When we had four children, good stuff in the fridge was devoured like locusts eat stalks of wheat on the plains. My complaint was usually the opposite. “Who ate all the icecream?” I would plaintively ask. I think there needs to be a way for someone to create DURABLE clear food containers. Often the leftovers end up in “Cool Whip” containers or old containers of sour cream. They are sturdy and come with nice tops. Astute readers, however, already know the problem. A week later, you wonder, “Is that REALLY sour cream?” Or you never do and assume all along it IS sour cream. But weeks later, unfortunately, you find the chicken salad you never finished, and when you pop open the lid you find a terrifying science experiment. In that case, you take the container and the contents to the garbage can outside. There’s just no way I’m washing that out.