Chocolate!

Something funny happened today. It made me laugh.

When I first went to work, I worked as a part-time secretary in a retirement home. I went to school in the morning, then got out early and worked in the afternoon. My grandmother lived at the place where I worked--it wasn't really a retirement home, but rather, an apartment complex for elderly people. They all had their own kitchens, so there wasn't a cafeteria or anything there; there was a strip shopping center close by, though, and on the days I worked a full day (it must have been on the weekends), I'd walk down to the shopping center and get lunch at a little sandwich shop, or sometimes I'd go to the grocery store and buy crackers and cheese or something like that.

When I got my first real, full-time job at an engineering company, there wasn't a cafeteria there, either, but there were vending machines in the basement. I lived across the street, so I could go home for lunch. Later, I met Barb there, and we went out to lunch nearly every day--I was single, I still lived at home, I could afford to spend my income on restaurant lunches.

I worked there for a long time, but eventually left--one of the guys I worked for left for another job, and he called and asked me to come to work for him at the new place and, being flattered, I did. The new place was less than a mile away from my apartment--Bob and I were married by then--and I usually went home for lunch. I'd eat something, then sometimes I'd lie down on the couch with Doña on top of me, and I'd take a half-hour nap. That felt very decadent.

That job eventually went away when the company left the area (it was a subsidiary of Gulf Oil), and I went back to work for the engineering company I'd worked for previously. They still didn't have a cafeteria, but my friend Micki had come to work there and we hit it off, and we brought our lunches and ate in my office and talked. She almost always brought cottage cheese and celery; I tried exotic things like cream cheese and walnuts on cinnamon bread.

I went out to lunch sometimes there, too, and it was there that I remember one of the first times that I was self-conscious about food. I was sitting at my desk eating a Winstead's steakburger and onion rings, and one of the salesmen walked by--one that I admired--and made a comment. It wasn't a nasty comment, just something like it smelled good and he wished he could eat like that, but it made me feel weird about people noticing what I ate. That was also one of the last times I ate beef.

That job ended when my position was eliminated--I supervised the secretarial staff--and I was demoted. I quit rather than take the demotion, and ended up in one of my few short-term jobs. I was the assistant to the president of a real estate company; he turned out to be psychotic and scary and I got out of there as quickly as I could, about nine months, I think.

It was interesting, though, because they had a kitchen there, and a regular grocery shopping detail. Everyone would take turns doing the shopping, there was a set budget, and we bought real groceries. Frozen vegetables, potatoes for baking, sliced meat and bread, cookies, cans of soup. Whoever did the shopping got to buy their favorite things, within reason. So there wasn't much reason to go out to lunch--lunch was free, so everyone took advantage of it.

After I left there I went to Yellow Freight, and that was my longest-term job. And they did have a cafeteria. A full service one--hot meals, sandwiches, frozen yogurt, salad bar . . . at first, I ate there a lot, but after I'd been there awhile it seemed awfully expensive, and I started bringing my lunch and just eating it in the cafeteria, maybe buying a soft drink or something else to supplement what I'd brought.

I enjoyed it, though. It was nice to know that it was there if I didn't get around to fixing something for my lunch, or if the weather was bad and I didn't want to go out.

When I finally got up enough nerve to leave there and change careers, I ended up at my first web design job. The offices were cramped and tiny, but there was a little alcove for an apartment-size refrigerator, and some shelves above it. The owner went to the wholesale club about every two weeks and bought cases of soft drinks and boxes of snacks--Goldfish crackers, cookies, peanutbutter-cracker sandwiches, Gummie Bears--and provided them to us for free, which was a cool perk. I got used to having free Diet Coke, and got worried when the supply got low.

There were several cool places to walk to for lunch, and Misty and Matt and I went out most days. Quite often we'd bring our lunch and go to the park and eat. Then we moved to a more or less industrial part of Johnson County, and it couldn't have been more than two weeks after that that we got laid off.

The next job was the Blair Lake one--a larger company, but still nothing like huge Yellow Freight--there was a kitchen there, too, but nothing so elaborate as the real estate company. But there was a refrigerator to put your lunch in, and one of the graphic artists had a franchise operation, kind of, where he shopped for snacks, stocked the shelves, and had an honor-system cash box. It was nice knowing it was there--if you got hungry in the afternoon or during a late evening working, you could go over and grab a candy bar or bag of nuts or something, and if you didn't have any cash, you could leave an IOU on the back of your business card.

When that company was bought out and, later, dissolved, I was unemployed for awhile, then went back to work when several guys from the old company got together and formed a new one. They did the warehouse club thing for awhile, but didn't really keep it up. There was a kitchen in the first place we worked, with a stove and everything, although that only really got used when we had parties. The microwave and refrigerator were the basics, and both were used a lot. Now, we're in a new place, and have the microwave and a (new) refrigerator; I bring in Diet Coke about every two weeks, and mostly bring my lunch, although I've been trying to at least get out and walk around the block at lunchtime.

A couple of weeks ago a guy came in with one of those honor-system snack trays--a cardboard box full of snack food, with a coin slot in the back. Everything costs 60 cents. I assume what happens is that when they bring in the new one, they evaluate whether the coins collected are enough to keep bringing the box; I'm sure they get ripped off fairly regularly.

I bought a few things from it--a couple of bags of peanuts, a Rice Krispie treat yesterday, some Goldfish crackers (my favorite!). There really wasn't much interesting in it, so it was still pretty full this morning when the guy showed back up. Well, a different guy. He walked in with the box, and I pointed down the hall to where the old one was, and when he came back by, he stopped at my office and said, "This one has a lot more chocolate in it."

I looked up and said, "The new one?" and he said yes, that when the salesmen come around and try to get people to take the boxes, they don't necessarily have air conditioning, so they bring things that don't melt. But when he restocks, he has an air conditioned van, so he can bring more perishable things. So the point of this whole walk down memory (lunch) lane has been: Chocolate!