Chicken: It's For Lunch
If I had feathers and a beak it wouldn’t be any more obvious.
I’m a chicken.
Our secretary is out with a bad back today. And I forgot my lunch. Which means I had to go out in the pouring rain to get a lunch today and since the secretary is out, I had to pick up lunch for my boss, too. I went across the street to Panera Bread. I had called the order in a half hour ago, but when I arrived I still had to stand 5 deep in line to pick up my food. And that was just the “take out” line. The line for eating in was about 25 people long and ran into my line.
Which is how I noticed him. While I hate to admit it, it was his resemblance to a past boyfriend from the back that caught my attention. Except that he was taller. And had a bigger ass and totally the wrong jeans on for it. But when he turned in my direction (out of boredom knowing he was never actually going to eat until somewhere around 3pm at the rate the line was moving) he was beautiful. Ahhh, the very short dark hair, the goatee and amazing blue eyes, long sleeved dress shirt with a thermal vest – the kind of man who eases into winter with grace - and no wedding ring. Sigh.
So, I started debating. How do I go from the “take out” line to the “dine in” line even though I’ve already called in my order? He already had 5 people behind him in line, so I couldn’t even get close enough to really strike up a conversation anyways. And what to say, “Uh, I, Uh…”
I gawk at the back of his head until it’s my turn to pay and it turns out my lunches are still not ready and I need to go down to the other end of the restaurant to pick them up. Aha! Now I have an excuse to at least go near the man. And I do. I even touch him. I tap his shoulder as slightly as possible and say “excuse me” as I walk past to get on down to the other end. Where I have to wait again. But to watch him now would mean I’d have to stare straight at him and that seems rude. He’s 20 feet away now, I can’t talk to him here.
So they give me my lunches at long last and I see there’s no good way back through that line even if I wanted to bump into him again, so I slip out the back door, back into the rain and back to the dreadful office.
I will never meet a great guy because I’m too busy pecking corn kernels off the ground.
I’m a chicken.
Our secretary is out with a bad back today. And I forgot my lunch. Which means I had to go out in the pouring rain to get a lunch today and since the secretary is out, I had to pick up lunch for my boss, too. I went across the street to Panera Bread. I had called the order in a half hour ago, but when I arrived I still had to stand 5 deep in line to pick up my food. And that was just the “take out” line. The line for eating in was about 25 people long and ran into my line.
Which is how I noticed him. While I hate to admit it, it was his resemblance to a past boyfriend from the back that caught my attention. Except that he was taller. And had a bigger ass and totally the wrong jeans on for it. But when he turned in my direction (out of boredom knowing he was never actually going to eat until somewhere around 3pm at the rate the line was moving) he was beautiful. Ahhh, the very short dark hair, the goatee and amazing blue eyes, long sleeved dress shirt with a thermal vest – the kind of man who eases into winter with grace - and no wedding ring. Sigh.
So, I started debating. How do I go from the “take out” line to the “dine in” line even though I’ve already called in my order? He already had 5 people behind him in line, so I couldn’t even get close enough to really strike up a conversation anyways. And what to say, “Uh, I, Uh…”
I gawk at the back of his head until it’s my turn to pay and it turns out my lunches are still not ready and I need to go down to the other end of the restaurant to pick them up. Aha! Now I have an excuse to at least go near the man. And I do. I even touch him. I tap his shoulder as slightly as possible and say “excuse me” as I walk past to get on down to the other end. Where I have to wait again. But to watch him now would mean I’d have to stare straight at him and that seems rude. He’s 20 feet away now, I can’t talk to him here.
So they give me my lunches at long last and I see there’s no good way back through that line even if I wanted to bump into him again, so I slip out the back door, back into the rain and back to the dreadful office.
I will never meet a great guy because I’m too busy pecking corn kernels off the ground.
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