Give me your truck food, your artisanal sodas—I’ll blow my paycheck on them.
I do not mean, in any way, to impugn the sandwich I ate for lunch. It was a satisfying, tasty blend of flavors and high-quality ingredients. As such, it was exactly what I ordered, no more and no less. It’s the ‘no more’ that, as a hungry and cash-conscious constituent, bothers me.
Happy businesses can be creepy; one hates to think of employees who are tasked with not merely showing up on time and doing their job well but projecting good cheer at customers too like professional Care Bears.
During a financially precarious time in my life, I not only ate the same kind of sandwich at my temp job every day, I kept a loaf of sliced bread and a package of cheese in the office kitchen so that I would never have a reason—or excuse—to visit the office cafeteria.
Do you have a regular work lunch spot? The kind of dining establishment that you run to in the middle of the work day because it’s fast and decent and serves sandwiches (usually), but you’d never be caught dead in on a weekend because it’d remind you of being at work and make you sad?
That I have to competently feed myself three times a day every day for probably the rest of my life is something I will never get over. You have to think of what to eat every day! Just make new things up! It is wild.
To save money I packed lunches, which due to living in a dorm included the tried and true Annie’s mac & cheese in a single serving packet. I figured they were healthier than the cheaper Kraft Easy Mac version and doused them using the kitchen’s communal Tapatío bottle. My older coworkers, self-identified as retail queens, would often order in from Juan’s down the street and gave me their castoff, fresh-fried flour tortilla chips.
There is no room in the office refrigerator for your lunch because it’s full of your coworkers old lunches.
Send an email to everyone in the office with the subject line, “Our refrigerator is disgusting” and in the body of the email write, “What should we do about it?”