I greedily claimed free WhatsApp food, but now I’m burdened with the cheesy touch | Bridget Delaney

Last week on my neighborhood’s WhatsApp group someone was giving away 90 slices of cheese: “Would anyone like sliced ​​cheese? Or do you know someone I can donate it to? Leftover from a school function? “

Yup! Myself! I’d like the leftover cheese! It was creepy. I needed a lot of cheese for the weekend and on Friday morning a neighbor had some to give.

That weekend I was throwing a party for about 50 people and making a hundred sandwiches. I had ordered roast chicken, bread and avocado but not the cheese.

All day I went around telling people about this modern miracle.

Brigid Delaney and WhatsApp cheese. Photography: supplied

“I need a lot of cheese, and then all of a sudden it showed up on WhatsApp, like I did manifested it!”

That afternoon I picked the cheese and heard its origin story. It was leftover cheese from an elementary school camp, and due to some health and safety laws, even though it had been properly sealed, they couldn’t reuse it at school. A student’s father saved him from going to the trash, but her family had a dairy intolerance. It was then given away on WhatsApp.

I was thrilled on my luck, and I felt virtuous in saving the cheese from the bin. Not only did I have free cheese, but I was fighting waste and participating in the circular economy. It was a look towards a more sustainable future … A The future of Marxist cheese where each was according to his ability, each according to his need. (Or as the French utopian Étienne-Gabriel Morelly proposed in his Code of Nature of 1755: “Nothing in society will belong to anyone, neither as a personal good nor as a capital good, except the things for which the person has an immediate use, whether for his needs, his pleasures or his daily work. “)

Some people were suss on the cheese, but its use date was December 2023!

🚩🚩🚩 I'm worried about the free cheese.

— Beverley Wang (@beverleywang) September 15, 2022


🚩🚩🚩 I’m worried about free cheese.

– Beverley Wang (@beverleywang) September 15, 2022

Could free cheese end up causing disease and death among my close relatives and dozens of friends? Probably not, but I’d find out soon.


I arrived at the place just before the party and my mother had already taken care of preparing the sandwiches. She had set up a production line with three others: butter, debon, season, chop the lettuce, and assemble.

I was left at the end, with nothing to do. Then suddenly it hit me. Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo Home was 25 minutes away. I had to go back to get the cheese! The guests were about to arrive, they had to be fed. They must have had the cheese rearranged!

The assembly line was concentrated, they worked in silence, the sandwiches piled up. My mother was in charge and spoke with authority. “Forget the cheese. We don’t have time to go back and get it ”.

“But but …”


That night I came home from the party and opened the fridge. There sat the huge cheese bar. It looked like a lightsaber made of toilet paper. It was a bit long and heavy. I could use it to hit a home invader in the head, I thought.

Far from appearing as an incredible piece of luck – a bounty – the cheese had now become a clutter. What would I have done with 90 pieces of cheese? My refrigerator would stink. it would occupy valuable properties on the middle shelf. I didn’t even like that kind of cheese. It wasn’t bougie enough for a cheese plate, and no longer as sweet as halloumi. It was the offspring cheese.

I had to get rid of it somehow. A friend suggested that I try giving it away again on the original WhatsApp thread, where I had so eagerly claimed it in the first place. Another suggested returning it to the people who gave it to me, putting it in the mailbox and then running away. But I couldn’t do it. Once you have the cheese, you need to pass it on to new people.

It was as if cheese was “it,” the horrible, tainted thing in kids’ tag games. Nobody wants to be it. People run away screaming from you. Stand alone (or more properly according to the children’s rhyme “The cheese stands alone, the cheese stands alone, heigh-ho, the Merry-o, the cheese stands alone”).

Unwanted cheese (the cheese that stands alone) has dark undertones in the world of children.

In Diary of a Wimpy Kid there is a scene where there is a lousy piece of cheese on the floor in the schoolyard. Nobody knew how he got there: he appeared “mysteriously”. A child says: “Nobody knew who it belonged to, nobody touched it. Nobody threw it away. So it was there, becoming more repulsive and powerful by the day. Just like my cheese!

Then one day a boy named Darren Walsh “made the biggest mistake of his life”. He touched the cheese. Now he had the “touch of cheese”. The children ran away from him screaming. He has become an outcast. The only way to get rid of the cheesy touch was to pass it on to someone else.

I was involved in an adult cheesy touch situation, buying in bulk?

I think so.

But one day, when I go to a friend’s house, and when he’s distracted, I’ll take out the 90 slices of cheese I hid in my backpack and put the cheese in it. their fridge. And they will have the cheesy touch.

You have been warned.