Appetite for Destruction

The New York Public Library is hosting a exhibition entitled Lunch Hour NYC. It's simply, and brilliantly, an homage to Lunch. The history of lunch; pictures of people eating lunch; lunch menus, lunch venues; and films in which lunch was featured, are just a few amongst its many exhibits. The casual lunch, the working lunch and the origins of the "power lunch" are all featured.

For my four-and-a-half years in the bank, lunch was the most important affair of the day. The better part of the morning was spent contemplating and deciding which of Liverpool Street's lunchtime restauraters would earn our money. So much so that we - by which I mean "I" - kept and maintained an XLS-format - a favourite format for banking work - gentleman's list of over fifty venues within a ten minute walk, rated in order of their quality and value for money. I'd refer to it as "gentlemen's list" on account of my insistence to exclude vegetarian only options. I entrusted that list and my folder full of menu's to JJ shortly before my exit. I ought to check that he has diligently performed the appropriate maintenance. As I recall, Mama Thai was more or less untouchable, Kung Food was perfect, if you didn´t have-slash-want to do anything in the afternoon, and Happy Days´ Fish & Chips was ideal for punishing dieting girls.

I´m simply an active patron of lunch and lunching, but I will claim the coining of the "professional´s half." The half is perfect for quickly alleviating the visceral urge to place one´s telephone handset through one´s computer screen. When a coffee just won´t cut it, a professional´s half can have you back at your desk without any ill-effect, inside of fifteen minutes, and without your being a danger to yourself and those around you. It´s a winner. And you can pick up the other half later.

Photo: goodforlunch.com, The best

Into my final few months, I´d increasingly often hassle select colleagues with instant messages of '0.5' and "Magpie?" - referring to my beloved local, "The Magpie", which featured as a location in the admittedly questionable Basic Instinct 2. More often than not, my desperate requests were rejected, but just occasionally, I'd hit someone on my aggressively bitter wavelength. And always, faithful and reliable fine English ale acts as the perfect destructive interference to that bitterness.

Fig 1.  phys.uconn.edu, Destructive interference
Maddening arseholing around the office plus Ale equals Reduced urge to kill