I don't often get to eat at Panera's these days. But today I found myself ordering my favorite smoked turkey on country white hold the onions sandwich, and sitting down to fully enjoy a meal. I selected a seat in the back room beyond the unlit fireplace, back where the sun was shining merrily through the windows and there were fewer people. I faced towards the outdoors, unwrapped my sandwich, took a big bite, and sat back to warm my face in the sun. I even closed my eyes, knowing no one was looking.
Slowly I tuned in to what I was hearing, and found myself drawn into half spun dramas where my imagination had to supply some of the details. In the corner booth, surrounded by paperwork and a laptop, sat a middle aged man nursing a cup of coffee. He seemed to be some sort of sales rep, and spent most of the time on his cell phone making nice with people, being understanding of their situations, asking for appointments. By his frequent between-calls sighing, I suspect things are not going particularly well these days, whatever it is he is selling. I watch him nervously tap his pencil and shuffle papers around while his honey smooth voice cajoled people on the other end of the line.
Across the room sat another young man who didn't even have a cup of coffee or anything else in front of him. He just slumped over the table as if he were exhausted, his face somber, his eyes puffy slits, his sweatshirt pulled up around his ears, the perfect picture of sad. He sat completely still, tucked in the far corner behind the fireplace out of reach from prying eyes, his hands crammed into his pockets.
The only other occupants of the back room were two older women chattering away happily about some juicy event that they had both witnessed. Their conversations was peppered with "can you believe" and "what was she thinking" and other epitaphs of incredulity about whatever it was the offender had done. I half wondered if they were discussing a soap opera, and expected to hear comments about illegitimate children and illicit love affairs. Mostly though, they were obsessed by something that was said.
I took a bite of the dill pickle, letting the sharp tang tantalize my tongue, and returned my gaze to the outdoors, tuning out the other occupants of the room. This lunch is for my enjoyment, and I intend to take full advantage of the time to thoroughly appreciate my food, this day, this moment of leisure, and the wonderful weather. Companions in the room notwithstanding.
Slowly I tuned in to what I was hearing, and found myself drawn into half spun dramas where my imagination had to supply some of the details. In the corner booth, surrounded by paperwork and a laptop, sat a middle aged man nursing a cup of coffee. He seemed to be some sort of sales rep, and spent most of the time on his cell phone making nice with people, being understanding of their situations, asking for appointments. By his frequent between-calls sighing, I suspect things are not going particularly well these days, whatever it is he is selling. I watch him nervously tap his pencil and shuffle papers around while his honey smooth voice cajoled people on the other end of the line.
Across the room sat another young man who didn't even have a cup of coffee or anything else in front of him. He just slumped over the table as if he were exhausted, his face somber, his eyes puffy slits, his sweatshirt pulled up around his ears, the perfect picture of sad. He sat completely still, tucked in the far corner behind the fireplace out of reach from prying eyes, his hands crammed into his pockets.
The only other occupants of the back room were two older women chattering away happily about some juicy event that they had both witnessed. Their conversations was peppered with "can you believe" and "what was she thinking" and other epitaphs of incredulity about whatever it was the offender had done. I half wondered if they were discussing a soap opera, and expected to hear comments about illegitimate children and illicit love affairs. Mostly though, they were obsessed by something that was said.
I took a bite of the dill pickle, letting the sharp tang tantalize my tongue, and returned my gaze to the outdoors, tuning out the other occupants of the room. This lunch is for my enjoyment, and I intend to take full advantage of the time to thoroughly appreciate my food, this day, this moment of leisure, and the wonderful weather. Companions in the room notwithstanding.
No comments:
Post a Comment