I wish we lived in a society where lunchtime meetings didn’t exist. Where we could respect everyone’s need for nourishment and break during the appropriate hour. Where I didn't have to be the only one who’s growling stomach is so loud that people on the other side of the conference table are starting to stare.
See, I’m kind of a baby about this. Not like a “why don’t you go cry about it?” baby (okay, well, maybe a little), but like a “I really need to eat at regular intervals or I lose it” baby.
It gets to the point in a noon hour meeting when I can’t concentrate anymore. You start to lose me. I get all glassy-eyed and awful. Sure, I’m taking notes or throwing out half-baked ideas. But I’m really planning my escape strategy so I can get to the microwave before anyone else in the room. And I’m wondering how many minutes I can safely shave off the cooking time on my frozen meal so I can eat as soon as possible. Yes, there's always the chance I might get salmonella from an undercooked Lean Cuisine, but the salmonella gamble is one I'm willing to take.
I’m pretty sure I should have out grown this. I should be able to man up and make it until we break for lunch. But I can’t. That bowl of store brand mini wheats was a long time ago, and I have to eat.
And while we’re at it, let’s borrow the whole afternoon siesta thing that Europe’s got going on. I could totally get behind that.
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