Drastic times call for drastic measures. People who normally would go out and buy lunch everyday are brown bagging it to work. I ask you: Do you know who's eating your lunch? In our old office, we had a lunch thief. Packed lunches were disappearing from the communal refrigerator at an alarming rate. The lunch thief stole burritos, organic sandwiches, cups of yogurt, soup, old birthday cake, the extra-special pre-measured highly nutritious salad of someone on a calorically restricted diet. We would all get the victims' sad little emails admonishing "whoever it is" for stealing their lunch.
We never found out who the thief was--was it one person? Was it several people, a gang of thieves? Were there copycats? Was it a ghost? Was it all an innocent mistake? You know, the old "Oh, I thought that was my leftover pizza" routine. Then came the rationalizing: if someone is so hungry that they need to steal another person's lunch, shouldn't they just be allowed to have said lunch? People proposed clever schemes for catching this "Refrigerator Bandit." Install a hidden webcam on the refrigerator. Put GPS trackers on your lunch box. Tie a very long piece of string on your tupperware and thread it down to your office. Others took the benevolent why-can't-we-all-just-get-along high road and offered to buy the thief lunch, just lay off with the stealing. Still others took the make your lunch so gross nobody would want to eat it route. My cubicle-mate took to drawing a skull and crossbones on his brown paper lunch bag everyday and labeling it "POISON."