Tuesday, July 24, 2012

The Pied Piper of Lunch. This was a title recently conferred upon me by management–not formally, obviously, with a ceremony or anything–and it is a savory burden I bear proudly, now more than ever. That’s because there’s been a recent epidemic in brownbagging, and I don’t use the term lightly. It starts innocently enough, with one person bringing in a microwaveable dinner, and then bam! The sentiment goes airborne. Fuckin’ fruit cup in every cubicle.

Lunch is the most sacred hour of the workday. I don’t think this is revelatory. It is the time for stretching your legs, getting some fresh air, and tracking down something palatable–because your soul, after all, probably isn’t crying out for a turkey sandwich. I’ll be completely honest with you: I get surly whenever meetings are–what I can only imagine–mistakenly scheduled for 12 or 12:15. Microsoft Outlook must’ve malfunctioned. And woe be to the salesperson who unwittingly cold calls at 11:55. You may not be privy to my schedule, but you should be privy to human decency.

A couple weeks ago, I sung the praises of food trucks. Since then, the only thing that’s pulled up to the curb consistently has been disappointment, and I felt duty-bound to update you accordingly. Between complete no-shows, payment processors on the fritz, and a shortage of ingredients, the magic’s gone. The revised verdict is mobile food can be as unreliable as it is delicious. Fortunately, though, two can play at the disappearing game.