The Whole Company Keeps Begging Me to Feed Them

After graduating, you land a job in the external communications division of the logistics department at the world's only mega-corporation. The division's full name is "Management and Communication for the External Procurement of Nonhuman Species"... or, more simply, "the office lunch lady."

You know the diets and nutritional needs of all kinds of species, and can perfectly satisfy the appetites of every frontline employee at headquarters, while generally catering to the fussy palates of middle management. As for the inscrutable higher-ups, you approach them with an enterprising spirit, boldly experimenting and constantly coming up with new dishes.

You also have plenty of connections. A few phone calls are all it takes to order fresh pasture grass from distant star systems or enough peacock meat to cover all of Blue Star. Even high-end restaurants and Michelin-starred establishments that have always scorned delivery have to start offering business catering packages on the spot when you come calling. Group orders start at 300,000 portions.

Everyone at the company says you're a heaven-sent lunch lady, a once-in-a-century master of communication. You can only clutch your diploma in "Animal Feed Research and Application," glance at your section chief as he gazes down and strokes the succulent plant on his desk, and smile modestly. "Oh, not at all. I learned it all from you, Chief."

You could have chosen something better, or more demanding, but this job is just too tempting! For one thing, your immediate superior is so handsome that even you, a woman, blush and stammer around him. Every day, you just want to walk past him like a child, hoping he'll notice you and say something. Plus, once you've finished your morning's work, namely making the lunch-ordering calls, you can clock out. It's an exceptionally easy job, leaving you plenty of free time to do what you love.

You thought you could coast like this until retirement, but just a few days after saying so, you became deputy section chief of external communications, responsible for the meals of the company's most senior executives. You also encountered the greatest crisis of your career...

Shocking! The publicity department's slime director, who eats anything, has suddenly gone on a hunger strike for you!

Terrifying! The most vindictive director in the business department melted into a puddle while eating hot pot! And you, not knowing who he was, cleaned him up with a mop!

Dumbfounding! The vegetarian director of the R&D department accidentally ate the sesame-stuffed meat you ordered for someone else, then tearfully demanded that you take responsibility!

Danger! The investor's menu includes humans, and he keeps eyeing your soft little belly and licking his lips!

[Reader Advisory]

+ This is NOT a food novel!

+ A silly, naive Mary Sue story! Second-person narration!

+ The world continues from Notes on Studying Nonhuman Species in Another World. It may be fairly short.

+ Some nonhumans can't transform into human form, while others can take on a partly human shape. Anyway, it's the Puffverse, so anything is possible.

+ Publicity department director: high-level slime. Business department director: snowman. R&D department director: qilin. Investor: half-human, half-dragon. Section chief: human.

+ Blurb written on the last day of 2023.

Theme: Picky eating is bad for your health.