I just saw the clip of Green Day rocking out The Simpson’s theme song and then whipping out violins as their stage barge went down like the Titanic. It feels a bit like we’re rearranging the deck chairs here at the place of employment. While we wait for the end of September, when all those laid off leave, we’re stuck in a holding pattern of nothingness. The work I have to do is sporadic and short-lived. As impossible as it seems, there just isn’t enough interesting stuff on the internet to occupy my time for eight hours. I read a magazine, albeit one related to my work, yesterday and a co-worker said she brought in a book to read. A Tom Clancy. Another person prepared for an interview. The most exciting discussion is what to do for lunch. And, that was a failure yesterday.
Yesterday’s discussion about lunch had us going to Beauregard’s Thai Room and then suddenly it veered to the 3rd Street Diner. The diner was recently refurbished but all the glossy paint in the world won’t fix a lackadaisical waitstaff and an inattentive kitchen. I’ve already banished the restaurant next door from my list of possible lunch spots (seriously how many times can you screw up a sandwich and fries and think I’ll keep spending money there) and I think the 3rd Street diner is now on the list. I used to work across the street from the diner when I worked in a little place I like to refer to as Hell. They would make cherry cokes with actual cherries–this was before Coke took all the fun out of it by bottling a facsimile of the taste. The better-half used to meet folks there for beer and fries. But, now, the fries aren’t even all that great. We get better results throwing a bag of Ore-Ida in the oven for 15 minutes at 475.
Update: the man in charge used the word dissimilate in writing and in speaking when he meant disseminate. Any wonder we’d like to kick him in the crotch?