The Lunchbox Warning

A male coworker commented, “That smells amazing,” after seeing my lunch. Could you make me one? I grinned and answered, “Yes. Just return the container clean.” He did. I was horrified when I opened it. The note read: “Get away from him before it’s too late.”

My hands froze as I watched. The note was unsigned. Scribbled in large, blocky letters on a ripped paper towel. Almost thought it was a hoax. Someone may have been dramatic or hilarious.

However, the wobbly handwriting and “before it’s too late” made me queasy. I scanned faces across the office. Andrei, my coworker, was typing oblivious at his desk. Or faking.

I put the note in my backpack and sat down, as nothing had occurred. The rest of the day, I wondered who wrote that and why.

Andrei had just been in the company two months. Most loved him since he was personable and skilled at his profession. We were friends, not lovers, but we talked often and he appeared kind.

Maybe too kind.

Mara, my roommate, saw the note that night. Raise her eyebrows. You sure that wasn’t him? Maybe it’s his odd humor?

Shaking my head. “It’s absurd. Why would someone order lunch and leave a letter about himself in the container?

Mara nodded slowly. If he didn’t pack it. Maybe someone else did.”

That notion chilled me more. Was anyone else watching? Who knew I was making his lunch?

Next morning, I had a longer commute. Though not paranoid, I kept looking over my shoulder. Nothing strange. But I couldn’t let go.

I tried something at work. I asked Andrei, “Hey, how was the chicken yesterday?”

He grinned. “Delicious. You have wonderful hands.”

I laughed but watched his face. “Did you pack the container back this morning?”

He paused. “Yeah. Why?”

“No reason. Just seeing if the sauce spilled.”

Shaking his head, he showed no suspicion.

Despite my expectations, that didn’t calm me. Was he lying? He lied well. If not, someone had interfered with his stuff.

I stopped making him lunch. I responded I was too busy when he asked days later.

So I started noticing others surrounding him. Around me.

I spotted her then.

Olivia was quiet and reserved in the office. Andrei and she started about the same time, although they hardly spoke. At least not publicly.

However, Olivia stared at us during lunch break while Andrei was talking to me. Not subtly. Just watching.

She turned aside immediately, almost ashamed, when we met.

I wondered if Olivia wrote the note.

So I remained late one afternoon and waited until the office was almost empty. I went to Olivia’s desk and pretended to have a client inquiry. She looked nervous when I arrived.

“Hey,” I said nonchalantly. “Can I ask something weird?”

She nodded slowly.

Have you written this? I showed her the memo.

Her eyes expanded. She glanced down, then at me. “You found it.”

“You wrote it?”

She looked around the office and lowered her voice. I had to. How else could I warn you?”

My heart pounded. “Warn me about what?”

Bit her lip. “Andrei. He’s not who he claims.”

I frowned. “You mean what?”

She surveyed again. “Not here. After work?

We met at a local cafe. Olivia appeared pale, like a burdened person.

“I worked with him before,” she added. “In another company. Another city. Adrian was his name then. I didn’t recognize him, but it’s him.”

I fixated on her. Are you serious?

She nods. “There was an incident. I work with him. He and she were friendly. Served him lunch like you. She received strange messages. Things moved in her apartment. She believed she was insane.”

“What happened to her?”

“She quit. She reported it to the police before leaving, but there was no evidence. He followed her, she claimed. Harassed her. His traces were covered. Quit town before anything stuck.”

My stomach twisted.

Olivia added, “When I recognized him, I wanted to go to HR. But I had no proof. If I went to them with a hunch and no proof, they’d think I was crazy. I thought I could warn you.

Surprised, I sat back. It sounded fake. Olivia didn’t seem to lie.

You still have anything? Photos, emails, something from then?” I requested.

Shaking her head. When I departed, I wiped everything. I just wanted safety.”

I walked home dazed after thanking her. Some part of me doubted her. As I thought about it, additional parts fell into place.

Andrei casually inquired about my residence. Possible neighborhood move. Another time, he mentioned seeing me at the gym, but I hadn’t told anyone at work. That seemed odd then. Now it felt calculated.

My decision came the next day. I visited HR.

He was not directly accused. I said I heard frightening things and was uncomfortable. I requested his background.

They promised to handle it discretely.

A few days passed. One week.

Andrei skipped work.

Later that afternoon, HR called me. She appeared tense.

“We need to thank you,” she said. We did a background check after your concern. It seems out ‘Andrei’ applied under a false name. He’s used numerous names for five years. Several harassment claims. Nothing was charged, but it was disturbing. We reported him.”

Shocked. “So he left?”

“Terminated. Law enforcement is now assisted.”

I left the office feeling like I’d escaped something big.

I messaged Olivia the news that night. She wept. Claimed she was free from a haunting she didn’t realize was there.

But there was more.

Two weeks later, a strange email arrived. Two words: “Thank you.”

I froze. Unknown sender. Just words.

I told Olivia. She reported receiving the same.

We both banned the address.

Life returned to usual. The experience altered me.

So I was more careful. Higher awareness. Not paranoid, but aware. I started making new ladies at work feel secure. I told HR we needed greater vetting. They heard.

I kept in touch with Olivia. We bonded. Our scare wasn’t the only thing we shared. Liked the same books. Same lame workplace memes. We established a weekly lunch swap.

Six months later, we traveled. No notes. Shadowless. We needed laughter and beach waves more than we thought.

One last twist.

Pale Mara called me into the living room one morning.

“Uh… I recommend seeing this.”

She pointed to TV. News. “A man with multiple identities was arrested in another state for stalking and impersonation.” A mugshot appeared.

It was him.

His name wasn’t Andrei. Not Adrian either.

It was absolutely different.

He used at least four aliases over six years, targeting high-turnover businesses, charming his way in, wreaking psychological upheaval, then disappearing.

He was nabbed this time via tip. Anonymous. But I had a hunch Olivia and I were involved.

Karma finally caught him.

The creepy lunchbox message may have saved us both.

Life Lesson? A lunchbox, a whisper, or a gut sense can change everything. Trust your intuition. Look out for others. Speak despite shaking.

Inconvenient warnings should never be ignored.

Tell someone if this story moved or made you think. You never know who needs to hear it. Remember to like to teach others that compassion takes guts.