Will Work for Food
By H.G. Miller
Well, today it's raining, and since most of the citizens in Los Angeles treat
this as a sign of the coming apocalypse and start driving with the same wild
abandon that my cat displays when chasing after a shredded scrap of paper, I
tend to spend the soggy hours indoors and away from street-level windows.
As lunchtime approaches, I contemplate my choices, which are rather limited
when any options involving direct exposure to daylight are eliminated.
It looks like I'll be eating in.
Luckily, in an attempt to save money for my upcoming nuptials, I have begun
stocking the workplace refrigerator with an assortment of frozen entrees from
the fine folks at Lean Cuisine (alas, I am also trying to fit into a tux of an
as of yet indeterminate color).
Of course, life is never as easy as the step-by-step instructions on the back
of my microwavable meal. Nor is it ever illustrated as colorfully.
It appears that I am not the first person to have the genius epiphany of eating
inside on a rainy day. Somebody has already commandeered the microwave to heat
up what I'm guessing is last night's meal.
It would also appear that this person has no functioning nasal nerves. The
smell emanating from the microwave is best described as a cross between
sauerkraut, fresh halibut and my grandmother's feet.
Knowing that my light and healthy Mediterranean club chicken will now taste
more like an old shoe fished out of the storm sewer dampens my mood slightly,
so I steal a Diet Coke from the community fridge to make myself feel better.
I used to be too timid to take the random sodas and food items that occupied
the workplace refrigerator. I knew how thinly my own budget was stretched as a
young employee in the corporate structure and I wanted to respect the hard
earned dollars that went into purchasing said sodas.
Then, people started stealing my food. Seriously, if it's not nailed down in
the office fridge, then apparently it is fair game for the vultures lurking in
the halls.
Well, I have become a vulture myself now. I'll still respect a bag with
somebody's name on it, but if you leave your Diet Vanilla Coke to fend for
itself alone in the crisper drawer, I will find it and I will take it with no
qualms.
Properly stocked up, I take my piping hot meal and ice cold drink back to my
desk to peruse the internet while I enjoy my lunch break (because, ahem, I
never go online during regularly scheduled work hours.)
Eating at my desk is fraught with its own particular perils. It never fails
that I attempt to take a sip from my stapler. I will also spill some food on
the desk or myself. The worst is when some of the sauce spills onto the
keyboard. It usually ends up being the “{“ key and I have to spend half of my
lunch contemplating how often I will really use that key and is it worth trying
to clean off.
That's about it, really. I can go into the digestive process that takes place
as I lurch through my afternoon assignments, because it's really more gross
than entertaining. I will say this: You can really taste the fat free in that
Lean Cuisine cheese.
