Yesterday I was overworked, overtired, and overly hungry. By the time 2pm rolled around it was apparent that I had not thought out my day and prepared for the wrath of my mid-afternoon situation.
At about 2:30 there grew within me a beast so unruly and intense that only the flesh of a heavy red meat could pacify it. I tried to ignore it by reaching for the emergency applesauce in my desk drawer and slurping it down in a jiffy. But anything that could be eaten “in a jiffy” was child’s play.
It needed blood. It needed slaughter.
Just then, my boss ordered me to scrounge up a sub from the local sub shop and I saw my opportunity and seized it. When the delivery guy came, I took the order and promptly darted to my local Five Guys, where only the freshest, juiciest, lard-laden cow is served up daily. I sprinted there, trying to simultaneously track where I would be in relation to walking to pick up a sub from the opposite end of the street. I was on target. I was a mastermind.
I arrived in a sweat and saw only one gentleman in front of me on his way to order. I let him go instead of sprinting ahead because good masterminds also take time to be kind.
That was a mistake.
The guy was a total noob – a greenie – a know-nothing. It wasn’t just as if he’d never been to Five Guys; it was as if he’d never placed an order in the world of food service before. Luckily, his brother/friend/man of substance in his life came over and laid everything out for him. Slowly and painfully. Suddenly in the middle of the rundown, four little sprogs appeared shouting for cheeseburgers like little baby birds hoping for their mother’s seconds.
My one kind pass had now grown to six.
Time was ticking. My hypothetical sub dispatch would already have sandwich in hand and be on the return flight. As my patience began to waver, one man showed the other the intricacies of burger-building like an amusement park tour guide. He pointed to the line cooks. He oohed and aahed over the magazine articles on the walls. As my eyes followed his guided visual tour, I fantasized about leaping over the counter, snatching a cow patty, throwing money on the counter, and running away in maniacal laughter.
After he successfully emerged from the ordering process, they stopped at the pickup counter and asked me to snap a picture of them. You know, right beside the sign that says “you must be this tall to eat a cheeseburger”. I snapped the picture with my finger slipping on the capture button from the nervous sweat that was accumulating on my palms, knowing what I might be missing back at the office. I pictured my boss’s meeting coming to an end and her in her office drumming her fingers wondering where the Beach Club Sandwich was that, if on schedule, should have been delivered ten minutes ago.
Foil-wrapped burger finally in hand, I speed walked back to the office like an old lady in a housing development. My stride was full and fierce. I arrived to find the meeting door just opening and my boss exiting. I casually handed her the sandwich and tried the excitement within me that wanted nothing more than to shove the entire burger I was holding in my other hand directly in my mouth all at once. As soon as she walked into her office, I jumped into my office chair, tore off the foil wrapper and bit down into what was one of the best cheeseburgers I’ve ever had in my life and reveled in the glories of perfect timing and luck.
Ah, the sweet, juicy spoils of a mastermind. ♣