Missing Lunch

I check the clock and it is a little after eleven, which means lunch. It is nothing fancy today, but I am thinking about the leftover pasta and couple apples waiting for me. the apples are still in the red net bag, but there were only two left, so I dropped them both, with the bag in my black lunch bag. I am not sure what kind of apples they are, maybe Empire, but they are crisp and have just a hint of honey flavor. Refreshing and sweet. The pasta will be in a vented Tupperware dish, clear and black, but the pasta is where it is at. It is an Italian sausage, spinach, red sauce and cheese concoction my wife. Made based on a recipe from the Chew. It was awesome yesterday, but something about leftover pasta, when the flavors have mingled and enhanced, is magic.

I don't even make it out of my seat before I am delayed. Perry calls and he wants me to look at some strange behavior on his computer. I tell him I'll come take a look, as I need to head that way to get my lunch anyway. "Thank you, boss," he says. I'm pretty sure he is the only one who calls me boss, he's probably up to something. Anyway, I go see him, the thing is not a big deal and I am off to lunch.

Not so fast. Next the Interns, who see that I am nearby, stop me and ask about adding columns to a pivot table. I walk them through the process and then talk a little while about the project. Use these number to break out your work. Every breakout needs a process. You make a dashboard by adding this kind of column. On I go. It distracts me for a few minutes, but when Emily and Dylan are ready to get back to work, I head to the refrigerators.

There are two refrigerators in our the small kitchen area that most of the third floor shares. This leads them to be constantly over filled. This morning, when I put my lunch in, I had to figure out how to get my black lunchbox wedged into place. I did it, but it wasn't pretty. In the kitchenette is a tall, black woman from Quality, who is waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. I make small talk, but don't even slow down.

When I open the door I think it is in, I see the fridge is still pretty full, but I don't see my lunch, but I also don't even recognize the the place I had put my lunch. I bashfully look at the coffee woman, and go over to the other fridge. It get's me no better results. No lunch, no recognition of the place I put my lunch. This time, though I look at little deeper. I move things, look to the back, root around. I don't get it. Back to fridge one, to root around there. I decide it is not there.

Maybe someone else who brings a black lunchbox grabbed it, not knowing. I begin walking the floor, peeking cube after cube. Nothing.

Ok. Perhaps I'm remembering lunches past. Maybe I left my lunch in my cube when I started up my computer in the morning, or maybe I left it in the car. At this point, I just want the lunchbag and dish back. It is not in my office and, after a short walk I realize it is not in my car either.

Standing in the lot, I realize I have no lunch and no certainty if I go back in and keep looking I will find it. So, trying to make the best of the situation, I drive to China Express and order General Tso's Chicken.