The Tuna Hunger Games

I'll have a tuna sandwich.

Half or whole?

Half, please. What does that come with?

Lettuce, tomato, onion.

Hold the onion. So, lettuce, tomato, and mayo with the tuna fish, right? What kind of bread does it come in? 

Whatever you like. We have . . . 

White. Yeah, white is okay. Can you toast it?

Yes, we can do that.

Thank you.

For here or to go?

Here. 

Take this device to your table, and we'll find you.

Okay.

I then receive a tuna panini. Tuna, mayo, lettuce, and tomato grilled or however it is heated.

To my two friends: I didn't ask for a panini. I just wanted a tuna fish sandwich with the bread toasted. Should I go up and tell them? I mean, I don't necessarily want to go all Steve Jobs on them, but this isn't what I wanted.

I would. It's not what you asked for. Go ahead.

At the counter in front of the food-prep area: This is a panini. I just wanted a tuna fish sandwich with lettuce, tomato, mayo, and no onion -- with the bread toasted.

I don't understand. That's what you hav --

I don't want the tuna fish heated, I...

Quizzical expressions. My server walks to the trash receptacle and ceremoniously lets the food contents slide off the plastic plate into the garbage hole destined for a landfill.

One of my friends at the table concurred in particular regarding a distaste for and aversion to heated mayonnaise, for reasons of health and taste. I considered dropping the whole notion of toasted bread, but no...

Moments later: A plate with four pieces of toasted white bread and nothing on the bread.

My turn for quizzical facial expression.

Pause.

Halt.

Is that what you wanted, sir? It's been a tough night on the line.

Where's the tuna fish? Where'd it go? And the lettuce, tomato, mayo?

A wide chasm existed between what I was thinking of saying and what sounds emerged from my mouth, though my two friends said my face and body language revealed the interior volcano that I was trying to disguise and squelch.

The chasm was getting smaller, more narrow, and smoldering.

Um, where's the tuna fish?

I kind of thought maybe you wanted the tuna fish. Hold on . . .  

Seconds later: A plate holding tuna fish with mayo in a cardboard cup for me to make the aforementioned and requested sandwich onto the four pieces of toasted bread and lettuce and tomato.

Is it me? Was it that hard? Was I that unclear?

My two friends tended to agree with me, or maybe they were exercising diplomacy and politesse.

Sometimes life ain't as simple as you'd think.

Gawd.

you're fired!

After my preceding blog post about my experience as a food-delivery driver, I got axed! In the middle of the night. 4:47 a.m. to be exact. Coincidence?! You'd think someone or some-thing-or-it-or-algorithm had read my blog piece with its albeit anonymous references to an on-demand food-delivery service. Coincidence?! The reason for being fired? Some balderdash about not meeting minimum customer rating and minimum completion rate ... which is literally laughable (LL) because unless the app was acting up, I was always on time or early. I mean, c'mon! If that's how DoorDash wants to play they can go fuck themselves. And, no, I don't care if an algorithm, robot, human, or humanoid fired me. Who'd want to be part of such a clusterfuck anyway?

ants in my pants -- not yet

This morning my daughter goes to eat her Honey Bunches of Oats breakfast cereal and decides to throw out the whole package, upon finding bunches of ants, honey, in the cereal. Cereal killer, those ants. Or us. I thought it was an extreme, um, antic, to discard the whole contents ["contants"??], but, hey, the dog had just thrown up on the kitchen floor. We were under *ant*icipatory duress; she had a bus to catch.

Maybe we should surrender in the sense of simply regarding the ants as food, sans chocolate.

Or live in "peaceable kingdom" harmony with the ants. Let it / them be.

It is futile to crush the happenstance ant crawling into or out of the cabinet and to fight off the low hum of guilt as I rub my fingers together to expunge the dusty insect remains. As with most wars, strategies need to be reconsidered.

Are the ant traps working but more slowly than anticipated?

What about the Ortho Home Defense Indoor Insect Killer ("use with confidence around food, children & pets")? ("Made with pure orange peel extract.") Is the "confidence" noted on the label for the welfare of the food, children, and pets? Or confidence in the death of the ants? I sprayed some on paper towels and rubbed the walls and cabinet doors and edges. Hey, maybe it chased the ants into the cereal boxes and other boxes! By the way, the plastic container with tight lid? -- the one I told spouse and daughter to buy to protect against ants? -- it sits in the cabinet. Empty. Bare. Naked. No cereal or anything else in it.

Stay tuned to see if this blog is crawling with more antie-bellum words next time.

Take This Book

. . . break it open, and digest it.

Take This Bread is a deliciously nourishing memoir. At least for me.

You'll have to decide for yourself.

At least the author is true to the biographical etymology of San Francisco, that's for sure.