I Miss the Two-Hour Lunch

Leaving my corporate job was the best move I ever made.  True, I had to leave some of the best coworkers a girl could have.  I miss the camaraderie, but I do not miss the idiotic bullshit bureaucracy.  A piece of me died every morning I walked through the doors of that Fortune 500 with all it's awards and leading-edge technology headed by corporate pioneers.  *blaaakkkk, just puked in my mouth*  It's been over five years since I worked there, and nearly all of my colleagues have moved on to further their careers.  Only a few remain at that hell hole disguised as a window office with pod seating.  Occasionally we get together, and I get to enjoy the stories again.  But things have changed...

Regardless of how awful that job was I cannot help but feel nostalgic.  God, I miss my posse!  I really had more good times at the concentration camp work than bad ones.  Don't get me wrong; I still took frequent mental health days.  However, I enjoyed going to my job just so I could hang with my friends.  It really is true that misery loves company.  Our bond was our misery.  We were forced together by ludicrousness.  We were a team.  A team of oppressed slaves, but a team nonetheless.

Each day at approximately 11:45 a.m., we headed off to some undisclosed location for lunch.  The location was always undisclosed because it always took several hours to actually decide on a place.  Usually the driver made the final decision.  (Of course, that was always contingent upon LLL's approval.)  For roughly two hours, we'd sit in a restaurant rehashing the absurdity of our day.

Oh, if those restaurant walls could talk...  Hank would finally discover how he got the nickname.  Kent's secret stash of Jergen's and tissue would become public knowledge.  Jackie's "basketball" playing husband's girlfriend would be revealed.  And Grant's wife would learn of all about his slush fund and stripper friends.  She'd know that he didn't really believe in religion (though she is very devout in her faith), and he wore the same pants for weeks at a time.  Everyone would know the identity of Booger, and our VP would learn of Patty's online retail business run entirely from his computer.  The details of my secret shaggings with Tommy would be out (relax...pre-hubs and kids).  David would discover how close he'd come to receiving a severe concussion from the baseball bat in Carl's trunk.  And Patsy would never, EVER wear those stretch pants again!

Each day, I laughed until I nearly peed my pants.  Those lunches made it possible for all of us to endure the remainder of our day.  We could finally meet with Jackie without wanting to rip her head off.  Focus, Jackie, focus!  We are talking about me.  I nearly lost an eye!   Those lunches made it possible for us to manage a 3-hour afternoon staff meeting about the cost of lawn care at the complex near the golf course.

Today, all of those memories came flooding back to me.  I didn't get to spend two hours with my friends from back in the day, but I did get to spend two hours with some of my new, yet equally entertaining, colleagues.  Teaching is great, but let's face it, 17.7 minute lunches SUCK!  You barely have time to scarf down a Lean Cuisine and pee before the kids are banging down your door.  On the days when I have a meal requiring more than 4 1/2 minutes in the microwave, I have to skip the pee and hold it until the following class period!

Our summer started today, though.  Exams are over; the students are gone.  All that's left is some paperwork and some desk-drawer cleaning.  Today was the day we'd been waiting for all year!  And it could NOT have been a better one.  We had a nice lunch, a few drinks, and LOTS of laughs.  And we even had time to pee! 

Ahhhh, I miss two-hour lunches...