Point: I Just Need a Second to Decide Between the BLT Sandwich and the Caesar Salad
Oh, just give me one more minute, I can’t decide what I’m in the mood for. I could go healthy and simple, but the feeling of bread between my teeth seems really appealing at the moment as well. Could it be because of its warmth, and the subconscious comfort it would provide me?
Comfort is important. It drives me on. It’s a constant that I need to intersperse thoughout my day as I traverse the world of finances—the harsh, unnatural world spotted with surprising fees I need to pay, troubling clients that require constant advice, sharp lettuce that jets out where you least expect it, buses that never arrive on time, unbalanced checkbooks, clocks that don’t work, harsh bacon, lost briefcases, slippery tomatoes, broken pencils, straight collars, crooked chicken. Noises, sights, smells—I need it all sandwiched between two welcoming, perfectly warm layers of carbohydrates. Why does it all seem so unnatural?
Salad is natural. Salad is an escape, a retreat to the earth. There is nothing to cover or mask or make more palatable. It is raw. It is young. It is straightforward. It is clear. The untouched lettuce has not yet withered. It knows not the struggle of surviving monotony to achieve adequacy. The cucumber has not yet browned. It does not know the pain of hot coffee splattered across exposed skin. The carrots are uncorrupted, the croutons nonchalantly tossed in to the heterogeneous, inconsistent mixture.
I need consistency. The kind that is wrapped up perfectly and presented neatly to me in a way where I can fully digest it. Where I can see its layers and understand how to tackle them. Where I can hold them in one hand as I bite into them, and fully confront them. I need consistency, even if forced. Even if I have to cram it into a paper wrapping, and pretend it fits perfectly, pretend I won’t be left with the smooshed ends of bread with some mustard that oozed out the back, the leftover, washed up remains of a life that once made sense. But a life that was so unnatural…
Counter Point: You’ve Been Standing There for Two Hours
You haven’t moved much, I’ve just been watching your face slowly turn from completely apathetic to slightly constipated-looking. I figured you couldn’t read the menu at first, but God, I thought you would have given up by this point if that were the case.
At one point, I thought you were going to order, but you just inhaled slightly, before exhaling and mumbling something about monotony.
If you’re not going to order though, I’d appreciate it if you moved out of the way, you’re kind of blocking the other customers from reaching the counter. It would be so much less complicated if you just followed along and ordered like everyone else.