There are only two things I really dislike at work, besides being there: working on the same floor as the cafeteria, and birthday cards.

Going by the odor that permeates the 8-square-cubicle region I inhabit five days a week, cafeteria workers are content to offer two selections every day: bacon in the morning and steamed broccoli in the afternoon. The bacon I wouldn't mind if not for the latest study showing that secondhand odors for popular breakfast meat cause bad cholesterol to skyrocket in sedentary males. As far as the broccoli, well, that's just so wrong. It likely stems from a grudge borne by the cafeteria lady who is not amused by people who constantly pay for their food in loose change.

After a while the nose ignores the smells, allowing you to return to what's important, and by that I mean surfing the Internet on company time. But the birthday cards, well, that's another story.

I try to imagine the first time someone passed around a card at work, knowing it had to celebrate a boss's birthday because no one had to suck up to their colleagues.

"Hey, I've got a Birthday card for the boss. Sign it and pass it on."

"I will at my next break. Which is Tuesday."

"Well, I need it by tomorrow. It'll just take a second."

"That's exactly why Emma was fired last week. Remember? That one time she paused in the midst of coughing? And just because she had TB. No, I've got to keep up. Besides, I don't have a pen."

"That's not a problem. Look, you're bleeding pretty profusely from your fingertips. Just use that."

"I can't just sign it. I have to say something nice and clever. I really can't think of anything."

"Well, how about thanking him for that time last week when he admitted he'd briefly thought about taking the lock of the bathroom door, and then the opium wore off?"

"OK, just give it to me. Hey, this thing is full of other people's marks. There's not enough room to write."

"But you don't know how to write."

"I was thinking about scrawling, but no, I can only squeeze in my X and that's it."

There is way too much pressure involved in the birthday-card process at the workplace. If you sign first, you have plenty of room but what you write will be scrutinized by the rest of your colleagues. No matter that you are a productive employee appreciated for your contributions. One misstep on the birthday card will mark you for the rest of your time.

"Good morning, Mr. 'Best Wishes on Your Special Day.' Did you take a course from Hallmark to come up with such a clever and innovative saying."

But if you sign near the end, card space is at a premium. You may even have something exceptional to say, making a witty reference to something that has recently occurred or, better yet, an inside joke. But there's just enough room to say, "Have a happy," for which you draw disapproving looks from the card's addressee.

"You know, I thought you were funnier than that. But now I know you just suck."

The key is to get in at the right time. About midway through, when there's still room on the card if you actually have something to say, and enough literary contributions on it so you might be able to hide a quick "You're not getting older ... no, wait, you are" without anyone noticing.

Better yet, abolish the whole practice. And if we could also outlaw broccoli, my office area would be a much better place.