Routine

As of yesterday, I realized my new routine is set.  Tomorrow ends three weeks of going to work at the new place but the finishing touches of the routine were just added after the Tuesday lunch incident.

The routine involves all of the things you do every work day that are not actually work, but are because of work.

By Wednesday of the first week, I had worked out the best route to and from the office.

On Thursday of the second week, I figured out the optimal place to park.  Oh it's a good one, too.

But there was still the lunch problem.  I have a lunch routine.

For lunch, I usually have a sandwich (on Rotella's bread) with either chicken, turkey or ham and swiss cheese, spicy mustard and horseradish sauce.  I have an apple.  I have a bowl of cherries and a bag of Sun chips.  Sometimes, I have a banana.

I do not eat at my desk. I like to read whatever book I'm reading (currently "The Strangled Queen") while I eat my lunch, so a nice table some place I won't be disturbed is ideal.

At the old place, I always went into a break room that was farthest from my work area.  The one right next to my desk had too many people I knew coming in and talking to me.  I didn't want to talk to them.  I was on lunch break.  As far as I was concerned, talking to them was just like working.

So I went to the break room far away.

Sometimes people I knew would go into that break room and say, "Why are you clear down here?"

I'd say, "I was hoping to read for a few minutes without running into your dumb ass."

Now there's nobody at the new place that I dislike yet, but I'll be ready when there is, because I have my routine worked out.

For 2 weeks and 2 days, I had been unhappy with the lunch situation.  I would go down to the big dome area.  Almost all of the tables down there are designed for about 10 people.  Finding a small table is next to impossible and sitting alone at a huge empty table feels awkward, but that's mostly what I've been doing.

On Tuesday, I was sitting alone at a huge table reading a book called "The Strangled Queen" when a woman (girl) sat down on the other side.  No problem, I thought.  I don't mind.

I had just opened up my lunch box and taken a bite from my ham and swiss on Rotella's with horseradish and spicy mustard, when the woman said at a near shout, "Ok, you want to do this right now?!?  Because, I can be a bitch if that's how you want to play it."

Umm.  What?  I looked up mid-chew without moving my head. Oh - she was on the phone.

Ok, I can ignore this.  With the slightest, almost imperceptible twitch of my head, I returned to my reading in a fascinating display of expert passive/agressiveness.  I may have sighed a little, but I don't want to boast.

"So, then I told 'em, You know that Dr gave me them medications that make me go pee all the time."

Oh shit. I thought there's no way she doesn't know how annoying she is.  I briefly considered if there was even anybody on the other end of the line.

Basically, she was complaining about some supervisor giving her crap for never being at her desk and how she doesn't need that shit and disrespect and yada yada yada.  Ahh kids.  They want respect.  That's cute.  Old people sold out years ago.  We just want pay.

I knew I had to move.  This conversation was not going to end. I had an idea for a book. "The Strangled Lazy Employee."

But I had a stupid problem.  I was actually concerned about what it would look like when I packed up and moved to another table.  I envisioned something like, "Hold on, baby.  Hey!  Where the hell are you going?  Is my talking "bothering" you.  Sit your ass back down."

Even though that scenario seemed a very real possibility, I steeled myself and gently, quietly, put my sandwich back in its bag.  I put the sandwich, container of cherries, the apple and the unopened bag of Sun Chips back in my lunch box and slinked away from the table in shame.

But Cube, I hear you ask, what about the banana?

Valid question.  First of all, there is not always a banana.  Even though it's a routine, I do mix it up from time to time.  But secondly if I put the banana inside with all the other stuff, it makes the bread taste like banana.

My lunch box has outer pockets on 2 sides (the front and back).  Mr "Make your bread taste funny" gets relegated to one of those since he can't play nice.

So when I was packing up to move away from Princess Pees-Alot, the banana was still in the lunch box pocket dealy.

After lunch each day, I take the undergound passageway across Farnam street to get me a nice delicious double shot of espresso from the Starbuck's.   I say, "Double Shot of espresso, please"

And they always cheerfully reply "Dope, yo!"

Even though I'm not into the kids' lingo, I'm happy that they are comfortable enough to address me as "Yo" and obviously approve of my excellent coffee choice as being "Dope."

Behind the Starbuck's is a Chik-Fil-A Express and a small quiet area with lots of empty small tables.

Cha-ching!

So starting yesterday, I sit there for lunch. When I'm finished reading, I walk up to the Starbuck's counter and order the espresso.

True story - Today, when I walked up to the counter and before I said anything, the kid greeted me with a hearty "Dope, Yo!"

"Hodor!" I replied.

I'm finally home.