Eat like a Junior High School Teacher
I eat in a cafeteria every work day. I've tried brown-bagging it, but I'd rather have my weekends free to do things other than planning meals and portioning lunches and cleaning plastic containers. I'd like to say that cafeteria lunches are like high school, except that I went to boarding school where the bread was handmade by monks and the milk jugs came from a dairy five miles away, so I have to go back to junior high school for a reference.
My parents gave me $1.10 for lunch in 7th and 8th grade, but for an extra nickel I could buy two cinnamon rolls and a half-pint box of Jungle Juice, a fruit-flavored punch which as far as I know had no juice in it, the beginning of a lifetime of bad nutritional choices. Thursday is taco day at my grown-up cafeteria, just like at several junior and senior high schools, I imagine. Here's my taco day theory. Friday is fish day indeference to Catholics, so Thursday is the last chance to grind the remaining beef and sell it before the weekend. The cafeteria also offers sandwiches wrapped in tortillas, which grant cafeterias a low-carb option and a nod to multiculturalism in one move.
And there's coffee. We had undrinkable coffee in high school, and the coffee at junior high was for teachers only, forbidden fruit guarded by the cashier like a cigarette dispenser. Both habits I adopted as soon as possible. I drank so much coffee and smoked so many cigarettes in college that I have a had time remembering a college meal free of nicotine or caffeine. So now I eat like a junior high school teacher. Slop with privileges. All the coffee I want, and I want a lot. And I still look forward to taco day.
As always, tell me what you think.