One of those Veggie Melt Days

Yesterday, I went to the cafeteria downstairs where I work to grab something for lunch at my desk. It was just one of those days, you know, where you give up and eat lunch at your desk.

I stopped at the display of food at the cafeteria entrance, trying to decide on something fake-healthy for lunch. You know, it’s not oats and fruit, but if most of the population saw you eating it, they’d say, “Oh, eating healthy, huh? Good for you!”

I settled on the Veggie Melt Ciabatta. Nice mushrooms and peppers and herbs, which by themselves are mostly healthy, along with some melty cheese and oil and some big fat bread so my subconscious would be fooled into thinking it was something more akin to a Whopper.

So I go to the deli counter, and ordered the Veggie Melt, gesturing to the sign.

“The what?”

This is not the first time I have had this experience. I did a little Vanna White action at the sign. “The veggie melt?”

“The what?”

Fine. I pointed.

The guy turned the sign around and pondered it a bit. “Wow…veggie melt?”

Then, accepting the quest on the sign, he leaped into action. He read each line of the description, carefully adding each item to the sandwich. On at least two occasions, he goes off on a quest to find the ingredient. When he came back with the bowl of mushrooms, I silently hoped that he didn’t find them growing back behind the building.

Finally, he handed me my sandwich, which actually looked quite a bit like the display one by the entrance…except…it’s a veggie melt…and it’s not actually melted.

“Thanks,” I say. It was just that kind of day.

At least the sandwich was good.

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