This morning - at the Butt Crack of Dawn, as the Mistress of Sarcasm would say - I hopped on the Silver Aerial Bus and journeyed to Sweat City, there to enjoy several days of toil at the headquarters of the Great Corporate Salt Mine.
With my flight running reasonably close to On Time, I expected to arrive at the office shortly before lunch, which would have allowed me to join my colleagues for the Noonday Victuals. But my plans were interrupted by a request from one of my old friends in Sales, who had called me (unaware that I was, at that very moment, enroute to Sweat City) to request some data prior to several meetings with customers...meetings that would be starting within mere minutes.
So much for lunch with my colleagues. I ended up slipping down to the cafeteria just before closing time, by which time the lunchroom was mostly deserted...except for a brace of High Mucky-Mucks, whom I took unobtrusive, yet deliberate, pains to avoid. For by this time, I just wanted to snarf down a quick bite without having to be on my Best Corporate Behavior.
My eye had been caught by a salad, one that involved assorted greens, one’s choice of shrimp or chicken, Gorgonzola cheese, walnuts, Mandarin oranges, and diverse berries (rasp, blue, and straw), dressed in a light raspberry vinaigrette. Why not? I thought to myself.
I’ll tell you why not.
The salad was composed of that damnable mixture of greens that includes numerous Springy Components. To make matters worse, the dressing was fairly low in viscosity. As a result, despite my careful efforts, I soon found myself bespattered and bespeckled with reddish-purple vinaigrette. It looked as though I had been shot. Well, with a paintball gun, anyway. One with raspberry-colored salad dressing in it. Fuck!
Fortunately, a quick trip to the Kamar Kecil, where I was able to bring a moistened paper towel to bear on the situation, appears to have removed the most egregious marks.
Esteemed Readers, remember:
O, listen to Mr. Debonair
If a clean shirt you’d like to wear.
Eschew the Raspberry Vinaigrette
And you’ll have nothing to regret.
With my flight running reasonably close to On Time, I expected to arrive at the office shortly before lunch, which would have allowed me to join my colleagues for the Noonday Victuals. But my plans were interrupted by a request from one of my old friends in Sales, who had called me (unaware that I was, at that very moment, enroute to Sweat City) to request some data prior to several meetings with customers...meetings that would be starting within mere minutes.
So much for lunch with my colleagues. I ended up slipping down to the cafeteria just before closing time, by which time the lunchroom was mostly deserted...except for a brace of High Mucky-Mucks, whom I took unobtrusive, yet deliberate, pains to avoid. For by this time, I just wanted to snarf down a quick bite without having to be on my Best Corporate Behavior.
My eye had been caught by a salad, one that involved assorted greens, one’s choice of shrimp or chicken, Gorgonzola cheese, walnuts, Mandarin oranges, and diverse berries (rasp, blue, and straw), dressed in a light raspberry vinaigrette. Why not? I thought to myself.
I’ll tell you why not.
The salad was composed of that damnable mixture of greens that includes numerous Springy Components. To make matters worse, the dressing was fairly low in viscosity. As a result, despite my careful efforts, I soon found myself bespattered and bespeckled with reddish-purple vinaigrette. It looked as though I had been shot. Well, with a paintball gun, anyway. One with raspberry-colored salad dressing in it. Fuck!
Fortunately, a quick trip to the Kamar Kecil, where I was able to bring a moistened paper towel to bear on the situation, appears to have removed the most egregious marks.
Esteemed Readers, remember:
O, listen to Mr. Debonair
If a clean shirt you’d like to wear.
Eschew the Raspberry Vinaigrette
And you’ll have nothing to regret.
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