Mad Hatter
Here's an e-mail exchange I got from a pretty good friend of mine...
Guy friend: Hey, you left your hat in my car the other night
Me: Wasn't me, I don't wear hats.
Guy friend: It's yours, it's black
Guy friend: Sorry, it is not yours, just remembered whose it is, never mind
Now, let me take you on a journey through my mind. This is the actual sequence of thoughts I had during this e-mail exchange and in this order.
1. What night?....
2. I don't ever wear hats do I?
3. Typical guy, I tell him I don't wear hats and he still says it's mine...
4. Wait. Is he saying it's mine because he's thick or just because it's black?
5. Hard to tell, he's pretty thick
6. Do I wear too much black? (all of you at home stop nodding your head)
7. Probably
8. Does it matter?
9. Yes, if that's how people are defining me - 'Look everyone!! It's the girl who
wears too much black!' Not good!
10. No it doesn't matter. I look good in black...
11. Hey...wait a minute...How many people leave hats in his car? Who cares?
12. At least I didn't leave any other clothing...I think
13. Even if I did wear hats - I wouldn't have left it - I wouldn't have taken it off...
- 'You can leave your hat on' - but take off your socks!
Canteen Envy
Last October, my office moved from the interesting, cultural and vibrant downtown Brussels to an office park wasteland between NATO and the Airport. I have a few problems with this move.
Hey, I love my office and the view from my window. I can see 6 cranes from my window - all busy building more crap to obscure my view of anything non crappy. Many, many nondescript buildings and many more that have no other description than the name of the company hoisted above the roof in neon lights. Microsoft, Deloitte (pronounced 'Dell-uu-watt-a' here), HP, Fujitsu etc etc.
I do like passing NATO each morning. Nothing raises my spirits and blood pressure like scrillions of men in uniform looking all sharp and ready for the day.
I hate two things most about moving out here. The first is that I had to get a car because there's no logical way of getting out here without one. I mean unless you think 2 bus trips and a long walk are logical - nope...or going downtown to get a train to take me outside the city...no way Jose. It's really not that I hate having a car again, I like it if I am honest. It's that I now have to watch what I eat and god forbid, exercise. Yes, I said exercise. You can connect the dots. No running around, no up and down metro stairs and no 5th floor walk-up office means no croissants and lots of working-out.
The worst thing though is that my office is in a standard Office Park complex where a lot of companies are housed. And there's no company sponsored canteen. In fact there's NOTHING at all to eat around here. Not even a vending machine, no receptionist desk with complimentary candies, no coffee shop with fat drizzled muffins nearby, no sandwich shop, no cafe, no bistro, no pizza. And I think this is actually illegal in Belgium: - NO FRITES nearby. Nada.
The only thing for the average worker who doesn't have a company sponsored canteen - to do is to get in the car and drive over to the Shell Station down the road. It's got a shop inside called On-The-Run. Which should be called Run-for-the-Border because it's shite. They do crap very nicely there. Crap sandwiches, chips, salads with more crap in them than salad, sodas, beers, porno magazines for the truck drivers and candy. That's it. They used to have 1 type of fruit. Sliced apple snacks in bags. But it proved so unpopular with the clientele, they got rid of it. Guess I didn't buy enough...
So, I am reduced to bringing my lunch to work. Just writing it makes my stomach go sour. I have never been one to enjoy or appreciate brown bagging. I hate knowing what I am going to eat for lunch. I hate the idea that I don't have a choice. Sick really.
I am tormented by a man I barely know who works at Eurocontrol down the road. He brags about his company canteen relentlessly. He put the nail in my lunch coffin a little while ago - he sent me a copy of their menu - for this week. As if the agony is not enough - they have a different menu for each week. Drool. pass out.
Do you know, at Eurocontrol, workers have 1 option in each of the following categories every day: Soup, Warm First Course, Chef's suggestion, Fish, Vegetarian dish, Grill Item and Dessert. And you are going to die - 2 choices in the following categories each day : Vegetables, Pasta and Pizza...And each day is different. Is there no justice in the world?
There must be a team of 100 people making food for this huge company campus and I am sure the meals cost the equivalent of one lunch voucher. (Provided to all of us who work in Belgium for each day we work of the month - perk of being in Belgium. meaning, they probably cost very little. Drool.
Ok - it's mid afternoon - I need to forage in our barren office 'kitchen' for a snack of something! the 'kitchen' You know, that room with the gross coffee machine (I don't coffee). The room with cabinets packed with sugar and powdered creamer. The room with a fridge that has nothing in it but milk for coffee and old yogurts leftover from Francois' failed diet. There's a secret weapon. Dried, fake hot chocolate in pouches. With mini marshmallows which are like tiny, Styrofoam, dots. They stick to your teeth and harden immediately. But in the absence of a full service canteen serving afternoon tea, they'll have to do.
