Lunch

I'm putting a lunch break back into my life. 

In my first job after college everyone in the office took lunch.  Some people went home, some went to a fast food place, many ate their bagged lunches and reheated leftovers in the small break room in the basement.  On nice days you could sit outside at picnic tables.  The owner of the company, Millie, was an advocate of the two martini lunch.  I thought it was normal to come back from lunch with her a bit tipsy. 

In my second job, lunch hour continued.  Every few weeks a group of us would go to a wildly popular Mexican restaurant.  We would plan these excursions for days when we could get there at opening to avoid the long lines.  On Fridays we went to a bar for burgers and beer.  Many days we ate in our break room, talked, and read the newspapers. 

In graduate school I often met my husband for lunch. He worked near campus and we would select from the many food trucks lining the streets. Other days I would gather with the faculty eating lunch in the courtyard and listen to their academic gossip.

When did my lunch hour disappear?  In my first academic job many of us would eat lunch together in the conference room, similar to my graduate school experience.  But gradually, over time, that practice ended.  By the time I reached Syracuse, shared lunch hours were rare.  Some people went out, some ate in, there were occasional excursions down the hill, impromptu gatherings at the workroom table, but for the most part "lunch hour" was gone.

It has been a long time since I regularly took a lunch break. I would eat at my desk, sometimes trolling the internet, working a crossword, or reading a newspaper, but I still felt like I was at work.  It wasn't really because I was so overextended that I didn't have time for lunch, if I took all the time I goofed off the rest of the day I could easily afford 30-50 minutes for lunch.

I'm putting a lunch break back into my life. For the last few weeks I've eaten lunch in my office, but not at my desk. I've brought in a book to read over lunch and really divorce myself from work for 40 minutes or so.  In nicer weather I hope to be able to go out for a short walk.  I think it has made me more productive, happier, and better able to focus.  I think it is worth it. 

Sitting in Starbucks on Sunday

 

One of my favorite new routines is to go to Starbucks on Sunday morning.  As with any good routine, there it varies little:  Grande Earl Grey tea, blueberry scone (unwarmed), and Sunday Chicago Tribune paper.  I steep my tea then settle in to a reasonably comfy armchair for a leisurely read of the paper, perhaps topped off by a little pleasure reading and some emailing.  I like the idea that I'm surrounded by people, yet under no obligation to interact with any of them.  There is a constant buzz of activity, a sound level that is reassuring but not annoying.

Who else comes to Starbucks on Sunday mornings?  Turns out it is quite a popular place.  Like me, I've noticed some regulars.  There is a gregarious middle aged man who seems to know everyone in the cafe.  From eavesdropping on his conversations I've learned he is single, an atheist, involved in social services, and fancies himself as a bit of a personal counselor or coach.  From week to week I've heard him engaged in serious religious conversations, offer advice on a relationship break up, charm mothers and children, and assist the elderly.  He will talk to anyone, even me.

There is often a couple who seem to be on a first date. I imagine them having met on Match.com and choosing Starbucks as a neutral meeting site. They stand out because of the hair flipping and overly eager smiles of the women and posed easiness of the men.  It is clear both parties are trying to impress.  If these physical observations weren't enough, the snippets of conversation I hear are a dead giveaway.  Clearly "getting to know you" talk--where do you work, how long have lived here, what did you do yesterday...romance blooms over a latte.

At the opposite end of the spectrum is the arguing couple, or last week, what I took to be the arguing adult daughter and father.  Looking across the room I noticed a young man and woman, sitting side by side, staring straight ahead and clearly tense.  At first I assumed the were fighting with each other, but when an intervening table cleared, I saw the older man on the other side of the table talking. At one point the young woman replied. Without hearing a word she said, her anger was clear.  Her husband (I presume) sat quietly, looking at some middle place in the distance.  There to support, but not to participate.  When I glanced over later, they were all gone.  Not, I'm guessing, to the same house.

There is usually a table reserved by a professional...life insurance? time shares? financial advisor?  I've only seen men in this role. They take a table and over a few hours see two or three couples.  Who knows what they are selling...

There are dads with kids, moms with kids, moms and dads and kids.  Funny, though the age range seems to top off at about age 6 or 7.  Then there is a gap to college age.  I guess older kids aren't up and about on Sunday mornings, or their parents are escaping to Starbucks without them.  There are occasional groups of women, chatting about their holiday vacations, children, recipes, and clothes. I have yet to see a similar group of men....

I'm not the only single person. Lots of young folks with laptops and textbooks, a few older gentlemen with books or what look like school papers to grade. Interestingly, I have not seen another single woman of my age in the place.  Does that make me a pioneer?  A woman brave enough to face the wilds of Starbucks unaccompanied?  What could possibly go wrong? So far I haven't had to fend off the unwelcome advances of hordes of gray haired men. I think I'm safe.