The Unending Buffet

This is the routine into which work has settled. I have my access badge now, so I get in around 7:15, at least an hour before my boss (?) G. shows up. I'm also there several hours before J. and N.G. arrive. I go around, turning on the lights. They aren't automated, as I'd originally thought/despaired. I get my free coffee and ice water in paper cups. Really Big Pharma is obsessed with Being Green, to the point where they have bins for compostable stuff in the cafeteria. I settle in to work and when I have work to do, have several hours of hard concentration available to me.

G. usually arrives around 8:30. He hastily eats two apples, drinks a cup of tea, and is off on a day-long round of meetings, breaking only to come back long enough to eat another apple. Everyone trickles in eventually. So far, I get along with everyone except for one person - RuPaul. That's not her name, of course, but it's close enough to her real name. She has dismissed me out of hand as a being of a lower order. It was explained to me that she is undergoing several hardships at the moment, so much so that she only works in the office two days a week, working from home the other days. It might explain her treatment of me, but it doesn't make it right.

Around 10:00, my stomach starts to rumble, so I have a snack to quiet it down. Around 12:30, J, a very petite young woman, comes over to me and says, "Lunch?" Yes, please. So everyone in my corral/cubicle and the corral/cubicle across the aisle grabs their packed lunch and heads downstairs to the cafeteria.

There is a beautiful walled patio outside of the caf, and that's where we eat most days. Yes, I am no longer exiled to eat at my desk, but welcomed to eat with both groups. We fill a big table sometime to the point of overflow, but this isn't unusual. In the caf, I see tables pulled together to accommodate 15 or more.

Now begins the buffet. I pull out my humble pbj sandwich while the others pull out glass containers full of freshly made Indian food. This is why I'm the first one in - everyone else is cooking in the morning to have fresh food for lunch. Yes, this includes some of the men. Then everyone passes around various dishes. I have learned that N.G. is my favorite cook. Her food is spice-filled but not hot. J.'s food is so hot, it gives me hiccups. I take a small portion and put it on a paper saucer, then eat. I have to say, pbj's are beginning to pale for me.

There is much conversation at lunch, most of it in Hindi. Sometimes, things are translated for my benefit. I have a feeling something is lost in translation but laugh when expected anyway. I wouldn't want to get to the point where I'm excluded from lunch.

This means a great deal to me. Having no family and few local friends, I'm accustomed to eating on my own. It's taken this to make me realize what a lonely experience it could be if I had to go back to doing it every day.

So all in all, things are looking up. Now I just have to make sure I get paid. And I need more work. More work! Lots more work! Please! No more reading documents, but writing them instead. I've been there just a few days over a month. I value this too much to jeopardize it.

One added benefit is the display of Really Big Pharma's more popular products, including their all-purpose pain reliever in handy jug-size dispensers and the half-price Slimy Patch. I have been using the Patches on my mysteriously sprained ribs and am on the road to recovery. Actually, I think I sprained my ribs because of RBP's "bring your own device" policy, which means I have to carry my laptop home and to work every day.

But how I do run on.