My New Arch Enemy

I've been trying to save money lately, like everyone in America it seems (I miss the days when Americans could ride around in their Gold Humvees, running over baby seals, and giving a big middle finger to inferior countries like France). That means no going out for lunch every day, and I have to make my own fucking sandwich like some orphan. Since we are at the start of a Minnesota winter, I also have to eat inside in our work cafeteria. It's not realy a cafeteria though, since there isn't actual food served in there. It's more like a big cold room with secondhand tables and chairs. It smells, it's completely filthy, the garbages overflows, the sink drips, the vending machines always eat your money, and there's usually some sort of raw fish sitting in a bowl of liquid that one of the Vietnamese workers brought in to eat. Normally I wouldn't take step one inside that place. I blame the recession.

Now, you may think that my new arch enemy is the lunch room, the raw fish, or even the owner who raped me out of 10% of my paycheck last year.

No…

The real enemy of mine is the lady who sits in the good padded chair every day and puts her lunch bag on the chair as a way to save her seat. Most of the chairs in the lunch room are hard plastic or broken down office furniture, which makes it hard to enjoy an hour long lunch period when your ass falls asleep after 15 minutes. But not this chair, in all its green vinyl padded glory. This chair is like the God of chairs. It’s like the fucking Lebron James of chairs. This chair is my religion, I would die for it.

I refuse to honor her “calling” of the chair. I move her lunch bag and her coat to the other side of the table because I reject the possibility that a lunch room in a professional environment works on the same principles as calling shotgun. And I’ll be damned if I let my ass fall asleep for her misguided beliefs.

I’ve never been exactly sure of whose lunch bag and coat it is, but I’ve had my suspicions. The lady I’m thinking of works on our assembly floor and looks just like an old next door neighbor of mine from my college days. My old neighbor was a huge bitch, so naturally, I think the lady that looks like her is a huge bitch too. You know what they say; all old white people look alike.

And today my suspicions were confirmed. I saw the assembly floor crew all head into the lunch room on their break and decided to follow them, just to see who I’m dealing with once and for all. I kept a low profile, sneaking around the corner and waiting just outside the glass doors.

And wouldn’t you know it…

It was totally the lady I was thinking about. And as she was coming close to “her” chair I could see he disgust to see her lunch moved once again. And that’s when she looked up, right into my eyes from across the room and through the glass doors. In that moment, she knew it was me. She knew I was the one responsible for crashing the once peaceful existence she enjoyed like a lunch room dictator. She gave me the worst look a person could give to another. I may as well be Hitler to her. I’ve killed her family, murdered her dog, and now I’m taking her lunch spot. I could feel her hatred for me. It was so thick and rich I could have drizzled it on pancakes.

It’s on now, lady.
It's so fucking on.