The Lunch Lady

Props to the little enthusiastic old woman who makes panini’s at the Grad School of Business on Tuesdays. Every week I go in there with my list of sandwiches to be picked up for the office. She stands behind the counter all eager, wagging her imaginary tale-like, the plethora of breads, and spreads, and meats, and veggies, and cheeses in front of her all lined up ready to go. I look at her apologetically.

Focaccia. Chicken. Sliced tomatoes.

She waits patiently. Awkward pause. Her heart sinks. I see it in her eyes. That’s it? No spread? We have pesto, mayonnaise… How about cheese? Swiss? I must cut her off. Have to stick to the post-it’s decree. No that’s it. Thanks. This past week it was even more bleak.

Sliced wheat bread. Turkey. Mustard.

Damn those mechanical cubicle workers. Too up-tight to even get a tad bit adventurous with their sandwich. Crushing the life out of this poor panini-lady. She sighs and tosses the sad-looking lunch on the grill. You might as well get one of the pre-made ones next time deary.