I hadn’t seen this guy for years. He wanted to grab lunch to catch up. I’m not much of a catcher upper but I do like lunch. We’d worked together some years ago. I knew the real reason for the meet was for him to see if I’d be interested in working with him again. I wouldn’t. But that never stopped me from grabbing a free lunch.
We get to the restaurant after the lunch rush. It’s a small place and when we get there only one other table is occupied. The waitress waves at us to sit anywhere. We grab a table and sit down. When the waitress comes over it turns out we used to work together. When I worked in advertising she was a singer. Good singer if I remember correctly. But I had to stop using her. At the time she had agoraphobia and the only way I could get her to the studio was to pick her up myself. As good as she was that was just too time consuming.
But it was nice to see her. We had a nice chat. As a matter of fact, we all did because she rarely left our table other than to get our food and drinks. It turns out he may need a singer so at least he’s getting something out of the lunch.
I’m about halfway finished with my lasagna. The guy is chatting about a project, the waitress is standing next to the table and I have my elbows on the table holding a very frosty mug of beer. We’re all laughing and talking and it’s just a nice relaxing lunch.
I can feel the hefty mug in my hands. The ice built up on the outside of the mug is turning to water and small shards of it are slowly slipping down the mug. The only part of the mug not covered in ice is the handle. Which is still very cold in my hand. All in all a pretty perfect mug of beer.
Which is why it surprised me, and everyone else, when the large concave bottom on the mug separated from the rest of the mug. Just a big hunk of glass breaking free and plopping into my lasagna. Along with the semi full contents of the mug. As beer and lasagna fly through the air just waiting to land on everyone within a three foot radius I thought,
“I didn’t see that coming.”
My shirt is covered in lasagna. Pants beer. The waitress has some red sauce on her cheek and collar. The other guy, who was the least affected, is flipping out. Which is one of the reasons I’m not anxious to work with him again. I mean, if you can’t handle a little flying lasagna what’s going to happen when actual shit hits the fan?
The manager comes over. Turns out he saw the whole thing. I knew that before he said it because he’s laughing so hard he has to hold onto tables on the way over. He tries to apologize but, come on, that’s going to be a hard sell in his current state. By now we’re all laughing (with one exception) and I’m being asked what I want. Do I want another meal? Another drink? Laundry service?
“I’ll take another beer.” The manager, still laughing, turns to get it. “This time in the bottle.” He stops.
“I think that’s a good idea.”