Today we had our 2nd Christmas party,
sponsored by the store up front from us. It wasn’t going to be as big as the
one we had last Friday that our department threw but hey, free lunch twice in
one week! No one was going to complain about that. Thus the morning was nothing
more than a countdown to chow time.
In the afternoon the food arrived and everyone was
summoned. The manager of the store came back to us and started calling out
everyone’s names. There were five of us in the room and he started rattling
them off from the closest person to him to the furthest, except for one
omission, my name. I was the furthest away. I remembered thinking hey, what am
I not invited? I chuckled and hobbled my way towards the front store. Why am I
hobbling? Good question. I have a pinched nerve in my back that’s been
improving but improving slowly. 4-5 days ago I had trouble standing upright, let
alone walking, but now I just have a hitch in my giddyup. It’s still a bit painful but it’s getting
there.
I made my way up front thinking about how much food I
should eat and thinking about calories, sodium and things like that but also
thankful that I didn’t have to spend money or bring anything in today. Once I
made it up front I saw the store manager and he told me that everything was
upstairs in the break room. My heart sank. You see, the store has a little
upstairs break room for their employees that I never venture into. The stairway
is the narrowest stairway you’ve ever seen. You’d think it’s the way up to a
kid’s clubhouse where adults are not allowed. Trust me, it makes the entrance to
your attic seem spacious. I’d say the entrance and entire stairway is literally
2/3 as wide as a normal door. The stairway also has a short ceiling and very steep
steps. I’ve never been up there. I’ve never even thought to try. The little
Keebler elves door looked so silly that I never gave it a thought. Plus I have
my own desk, so if I need a break, I just stay there.
When I walked to the door and looked at the stairway I gasped.
Damn was it tiny. I tried to enter the stairway but I couldn’t. My shoulders
were too wide. I couldn’t get through the door frame. Maybe if I turned
sideways… but with my back the way it is, also having to duck to avoid cracking
my head on the low bridge I realized that going up these stairs sideways or
anyways was going to be incredibly difficult for me… too difficult. I stopped
after trying to get through the doorway. The manager who had gone to the top of
the stairs already turned around and asked me what I wanted, that he’d grab it
for me. I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what was there; besides, I didn’t want
someone preparing me a plate like I’m some child. I told him I didn’t need or
want anything and I went back to my desk in the rear of the building, embarrassed
and upset. I felt like a ginormous freak.
I griped about the choice for where the food was laid
out. They always put it in a side office on the main floor that only employees
had access to. It was easy access. This time they put it in that little room
upstairs that only smaller sized people could access. Now that I think about
it, everybody who works up front has smallish, hipster-like physiques. I’m not
sure if anyone up there was 6 feet tall and everyone seemed like they were no
more than 150 pounds. Someone asked me why I didn’t come back with any food and
I told them why. Someone offered to go up and get me a plate. I quickly
refused. They said; “it’s no big deal” but again I refused. I wish people would
stop asking. I could not accept anyone bringing me a plate. I was embarrassed to
even talk about it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. How ridiculous. They
Ed-proofed the food! Grrrr!
As I sat there and obsessed about what had just happened
the security guy from up front came into our room carrying a plate and walking
towards my desk. I felt mortified. “Oh my god” I said wishing I could hide. He
told me they pulled me a plate and handed it to me. There wasn’t much food on
it, conservatively pulled I thought. I took the plate and thanked him despite
my discomfort. Don’t kill the messenger. He told me to let him know if I wanted
anything else from up there and again I quickly refused. We then got into the familiar
song and dance of “really, it’s no trouble”, no I’m fine, thanks. “Ed, if you
want something, don’t worry about it, I’ll get it for you.” No, it’s okay, this
is plenty, thank you. After about 5 or 6 of those back and forths he left with
my gratitude and left me with this small plate of food. I looked at it. I didn’t
want it because it had to be brought out to me due to ridiculous circumstances…
they put the food where big guys can’t go. On the other hand I’m looking at
this food, food that would normally be eaten bare handed, finger foods if you
will, and wondering how they got onto this plate. Somebody must have grabbed
them and put them on there. I started thinking about the germs. I can’t eat
anything that someone brings me- that someone else put their hands on. But I’m
also really hungry. I had a light breakfast and I had been looking forward to
this for a few hours. Being able to smell the food so easily and effortlessly wasn’t
helping. I stare at the plate. The sound of other people eating fills the room.
I’m torn. I should just say screw it and eat this food and stop worrying, stop
whining. Something won’t let me. Something wants me to toss this food in the
trash. If I can’t go and get it myself, then I don’t want it. But it’s not
fair. They put it in a place I cannot go. The whole event is embarrassing and
frustrating. Why can’t I ever accept help? The tall thin guy who works in the
back with me just mentioned how he fell down the stairs a bit coming down from
getting food. It felt strangely reassuring. I keep staring at the food. I’m not
getting any work done.
After a 15-minute internal conversation I still haven’t
touched the food. I keep going back and forth wondering which will give in
first; my pride or my hunger. I’m now thinking of alternate lunch plans, like
leaving the building and picking something up. I tell myself, it’s such a nice one
out there today in order to stack the deck in favor of my pride. I have no one
here who knows me well enough to tell me I’m being ridiculous. Finally my boss
ventures over. I haven’t seen her in like half an hour because she was upstairs
snacking and being social with the people small enough to make it up into this
room. She comes over to ask me why I haven’t eaten the plate in front of me. I
tell her and she says that she saw them prepare the plate for me, and that they
used a napkin to grab everything. I tell her that she’s just saying that to
make me feel better. She insists it’s the truth and walks away.
After absorbing this new piece of information I convince
myself its okay to eat what they brought me although not without a ton of
overthinking and anxiety over the ordeal. What a cost! I finally give in and eat
the food and then realize that I probably would have grabbed more if it were me
doing the grabbing but I’ll be damned if I’m asking anyone to go get me more.
In fact I would rather stop talking about it altogether. A few hours later when
I actually had to take my lunch I left the building and spent a little bit of
money getting something somewhere else to eat. I realized how ironic it was to
have to spend money for food on a day where everyone was getting a free lunch
but that’s me, complicated and stubborn. I have my pride and a few less dollars
in my pocket.
By late afternoon I’m mentally exhausted from all the
anxiety and worry I put myself through. Did I handle this well? A curveball was
thrown at me and I had trouble adjusting. I guess I always kind of do when
something that I think is going to go one way goes another. When something that
always goes a certain way doesn’t and I was too embarrassed to ask for help if
I need it. I panicked a bit and I was prideful and but then I thought in a way
that this whole thing was a metaphor for what the poor and working class of
America have to go through. The ruling class thinks everyone wants a free ride
but we really don’t. We want to earn our lunch, take pride in it and most of
all we want to be able to get it ourselves. We don’t want it brought to us. We
don’t want it to exist beyond our reach. This is America man; land of the free,
home of the shamed. Today the goal was put somewhere where I couldn’t go. It
was put above me and I couldn’t reach it. I’ve never felt more American… and
hungry.
