A Perfect Example
I was forced to leave my desk and go to lunch one hour earlier than expected. This next precious hour was to be spent finding the perfect place to enjoy my lunch, but, being uprooted from my desk without a plan, I took the easy way out. A mere ten steps from the building that houses the financial company that I call my morning receptionist temp job lies an Au Bon Pain, or ABP, as it's lovingly referred to among my co-workers.
I spent five minutes unsure of what my health-conscious eating choices and slim budget might be able to handle, and then I saw it: the bread bowl. A perfect excuse to consume the amount of bread I want to while appearing to look as though I only needed something to warm me on this chilly, windy afternoon.
I strategically avoided the register where Liz, the friendly ABP employee that stops into my office every morning and afternoon with a cart full of treats for bartering, was stationed. I headed to the register nearest the door, and upon my approach heard the elderly woman standing at attention telling the young woman she was training, "Oh, a bread bowl. You remember I told you about bread bowls?" From her tone, you'd think she was talking about mythical dragons that everyone shares stories about but don't actually imagine would appear. "OOh," she continued, as I stepped forward and forced a smile, "and a chocolate milk. This is a perfect example." She smiled at me as though I was an angel.
As I ate in the corner, preferring the company of my current book to that of the strange professionals all around me, I couldn't stop thinking, "A perfect example of what?" Did she know that this was my lazy lunch choice? In a city full of amazing, original eateries, wasn't I a most despicable human being for entering the faux-french chain, rather than explore the wall streets to find a nice mom n' pop place? Wasn't I the perfect example of a tourist in the city I now tried to call home? Where were the locals eating? They certainly would not be caught dead here.
The next morning, passing a street vendor, I decided to have a try. (I know from the hoards that flock the ABP cart in the morning that the exclusively prepared bagels they sell are a dollar. A little steep, but I figure standards go up in the city.) My turn arrives to approach this small, silver vendor stationed just outside the Whitehall R stop, and the man inside this metal room smiles widely and warmly at me. Only 65 cents for a bagel? Amazing! I left the change for his tip, that morning and several thereafter. It is better spent on this hard working man than on the evil corporate chain of ABP. A perfect example of revenge.
I spent five minutes unsure of what my health-conscious eating choices and slim budget might be able to handle, and then I saw it: the bread bowl. A perfect excuse to consume the amount of bread I want to while appearing to look as though I only needed something to warm me on this chilly, windy afternoon.
I strategically avoided the register where Liz, the friendly ABP employee that stops into my office every morning and afternoon with a cart full of treats for bartering, was stationed. I headed to the register nearest the door, and upon my approach heard the elderly woman standing at attention telling the young woman she was training, "Oh, a bread bowl. You remember I told you about bread bowls?" From her tone, you'd think she was talking about mythical dragons that everyone shares stories about but don't actually imagine would appear. "OOh," she continued, as I stepped forward and forced a smile, "and a chocolate milk. This is a perfect example." She smiled at me as though I was an angel.
As I ate in the corner, preferring the company of my current book to that of the strange professionals all around me, I couldn't stop thinking, "A perfect example of what?" Did she know that this was my lazy lunch choice? In a city full of amazing, original eateries, wasn't I a most despicable human being for entering the faux-french chain, rather than explore the wall streets to find a nice mom n' pop place? Wasn't I the perfect example of a tourist in the city I now tried to call home? Where were the locals eating? They certainly would not be caught dead here.
The next morning, passing a street vendor, I decided to have a try. (I know from the hoards that flock the ABP cart in the morning that the exclusively prepared bagels they sell are a dollar. A little steep, but I figure standards go up in the city.) My turn arrives to approach this small, silver vendor stationed just outside the Whitehall R stop, and the man inside this metal room smiles widely and warmly at me. Only 65 cents for a bagel? Amazing! I left the change for his tip, that morning and several thereafter. It is better spent on this hard working man than on the evil corporate chain of ABP. A perfect example of revenge.