Wednesday, January 19, 2011


Here’s how very little I get out, particularly to ‘eating’ places. I was early for class last night and hadn’t eaten much of a lunch so I decided to forage for some food before settling in for three-and-a-half hours of math. I spied a Chop’t across the street and knowing what little I do about lunch places decided that my limited knowledge (they do salads) would suffice. Not so. I had no idea which end of the bar to order from (I was the only customer at that point so there was no herd guidance), once I ordered my Caesar with shrimp I was asked – or the product was addressed whilst chopp’ting happened – if ‘this’ was okay, I was queried on dressing type (Caesar?), once again shown a bowl of chop’t with ‘dressed’ lettuce and asked again if ‘this’ was okay, and eventually paid. I didn’t mess up on the paying part – at the correct end of the bar. I was vaguely imagining a massive lunch crowd of macchiato-drinkers-transformed-to-salad-eaters who ramble on and on with things like “Give me a double-mesclun and romaine combo base with unsalted, dried, lite Caes, and a half-tom crown.” What? I would have been the crazy old man in the mix just trying to figure out whether or not it’s appropriate to mix my mesclun with eruca sative while still having enough charm to curse the damn kids. Salad. Who knew?

Does anyone else have an issue with ‘hallmark’ cards at work? I find it unnerving when someone hands me a manila folder with a card inside and whispers, “Can you sign this and then bring it back to my desk?” Sign what? For whom? I have to look at the card, read some mini-paragraphs, figure out who it’s for, what it’s for, and then come up with something? That’s a lot of pressure for someone I don’t have much connection to. Maybe I’m cranky; maybe I’m right.

I’m getting revved up again.

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