Someone labeled the communal milk and started a war
It began with a name in permanent marker. It ended in HR.
The milk was communal. Then a name appears on it in permanent marker, underlined twice. Within a day there is a second labeled milk. By Thursday the fridge holds six cartons, each defended, and a printed sign about respect that nobody signed. The kitchen develops factions. People choose sides while pretending to make tea. Someone hides the good oat milk in a drawer, which is when it stops being funny. HR sends a note about shared spaces, using the word community four times, and asks that all labeling stop. The labels come off. The grudges do not. Two people who used to eat lunch together now take separate elevators, over milk.