Friday, February 6, 2009
I never know what the harmony in the office will be contingent upon, today, it was corn tortillas. The president of our company, Jeff, Trey and two of our company's lawyers had a noon meeting, so Jeff suggests they order in from his favorite place, Matitos. So, like a good assistant, I get the menu, take the orders and call it in. Every one's order is normal, except for Trey's. He wants three beef tacos a la carte and an order of corn tortillas. This is simple enough, just an order of corn tortillas.
Why does it bother me that he orders this side of corn tortillas? Does he eat them plain? Does he dip them in salsa? They don't really go with beef tacos. They go with fajitas, they go with queso, they do not go with tacos. I am annoyed with the corn tortillas. I order them, of course, but I'm panicked about them because if for some reason the corn tortillas do not make it to Trey, he will take it personally and it will cause his face to get red and I'll get nervous and feel inferior because I can't even order lunch without a mistake. I feel that Trey can see all over my face that I think his corn tortillas are stupid. I feel like the guy that took my order at Matitos can hear my disapproval of the side of corn tortillas over the phone. Why do I even care? Why have the tortillas become my pet peeve? They are just tortillas, to each his own, you know? If Trey wants to have corn tortillas for breakfast, lunch and dinner more power to him. Let it go, Alexis, let it go.
Needless to say, the corn tortillas made it safely to Trey's plate, where I'm sure he enjoyed them thoroughly. What's really my issue? I think I just need the weekend. I'm ready to not be someones assistant/waitress of corn tortillas...
TGIF --- these were Mary's first words to me this morning when I walked in the beautiful glass doors of RPI. Seriously, TGIF.
Postum Update: Mary received one inquiry about what the expiration date is on the Postum. It expired in February 2008. I feel like Mary and Kay are bootlegging expired Postum. Next thing you know they're going to be throwing Postum parties in basements. Yeah, I took it too far.