Who made me the judge? Tales from the office lunchroom
I’ve always been worried that people are constantly judging me. This fear has kept me out of gyms, public swimming pools and my own yard for as long as I can remember.
As a kid, I would hate to mow the lawn — not because I hated to mow the lawn but because I pictured all the neighbours looking out their windows and giggling because I was doing it wrong somehow.
I still feel their judging eyes on me even though I am quite certain they have better things to do than rate my yard work.
Why the irrational fear of judgment? Well, I think that mystery was solved last week when I looked out the window to check out a rain storm and noticed a neighbour who was out in full head-to-toe waterproof gear like someone from the movie “Outbreak.” Why the urgency to be out in the downpour? She was taking down Christmas decorations. I may have judged her, just a little. I called my wife over, I pointed, I clucked my tongue. I even scoffed.
Who am I to scoff ? Maybe she was taking down the decorations because it was warm out. Maybe some people don’t care about a little rain. Why was I being so judgmental? Oh, man. I am a terrible person. Now that I’m being a bit more sensitive about my judgment, I realize I am extremely judgmental in the lunch room at work. I definitely do the side-eye, peripheral vision lookie-loo to see what everyone’s having.
I realize this is extremely petty and superficial and immature. Wanna hear what people are eating? Thought so!
What I have found is that IT people, by a wide, wide margin, bring the best lunches. And by “best” I mean “worst” but also “best.” Every day — every single day — I can go into the break room at lunchtime and someone from IT will bust out a burrito, a burger and fries, some KFC or an entire pizza from a pizza place. Not a few slices of leftovers. An entire wheel.
Yes, I observe and I judge but I also admire them. I am incredibly jealous because I always bring extremely bland, boring, but supposedly healthy lunches. I eat things like chicken and broccoli (without cheese sauce even) but I still have the build of someone who regularly dines on mozza sticks, poutine or those Taco Bell tacos made with shells that are just like Doritos. Never had one. I just look like I’m a regular at the drive-through. I am either the world’s fattest healthy guy or the world’s healthiest fat guy.
Recently I was just sitting down to my boring, reheated chicken breast and vegetables when one of the IT guys sat down beside me and dropped a grocery bag on the table. It was, like, a full grocery bag. He pulled from this bag, and I am not making this up, a family-sized platter of chicken fingers. This thing was built to feed Mom, Dad and at least three kids. It came with a six-pack of dipping sauces.
I was extremely jealous. I dared him to finish them all. He did not. But he came alarmingly close. Let’s just say he didn’t save enough for dinner. Maybe an afternoon snack.
I wondered, if he placed this platter in the fridge, if people would think they were for sharing. I don’t know what the sharing rules are yet. Our lunch room has quite a few full-sized containers of things like ketchup, vinegar, oils and butter. Are these for everyone to use or did people just bring them in and leave them there for their own personal use? Maybe it’s a moot point because they would never notice a little bit of sauce missing.
But what about things like eggs? We have three dozen eggs in the work fridge. Who needs three dozen eggs? And would it be OK if I scrambled some up?
How about bread? I always see a loaf of bread sitting around in the break room. Could I boil up some of those eggs, mix them with the possibly-communal mayo and fix myself an egg salad sandwich? Or would this spark an office war?
People are sensitive about their food. Just an observation. I’m not judging.