The Office Chronicles

In my past, I worked at a fairly prestigious downtown company. It was one of those outfits that likes to tell the world that it only hires the cream of the crop, the best of the best, the top of the heap, the “A” students, if you will, the perfect people, the upper crust type people, all otherwise known as the pretentious snots of the world.

You can imagine how happy a place it was for me.

Anyway, there were several on-site amenities such as a dry cleaner, a shoe repair place, a bank, a car detailer, a post office, several cafes, and three cafeterias each with its own professional chef and professional chef’s menu. Food ranged from the expected – like a salad and soup bar – to the kind you’d expect at a four-star restaurant.

On one particularly lucky day, I had a unique interaction with one of these best of the best in the make-it-yourself taco salad section of the back-forty cafeteria. And I had the especially good fortune to get right behind him in line as he licked his way through the buffet.

He put a shell on his plate. Then, he added lettuce. Like a normal person. Lulling me in to thinking things were going to be fine.

Then, he reached for the taco meat spoon, put some meat on his shell, put the spoon back, and then licked his fingers. (I actually heard the *smack* before I saw it.)

Then, he reached for the cheese tongs, put some cheese on his plated bed of lettuce and meat, put the tongs back, and then licked his fingers. *Smack* *Smack* This time he added an eyebrow raise in my direction and a “mmmm”.

The next item, he did the same thing, but added eye contact and an, “it’s really good”.

Then, he reached for the sauce spoon. And I left. Put down my plate with an empty shell right there on the tray shelf and left.

Since, I either eat alone or with the unwashed where my expectations can match my experience. But, I still can’t eat taco salad.