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2002-05-21 - 3:16 p.m.

This morning my grandparents unexpectedly invited me to lunch. It seems that my mother, in her departure left some stuff behind and since I’m going out to Utah for a visit this weekend, it was discussed (behind my back of course) that the best course of action would be to have me return it. So we made plans to meet at a nearby restaurant that they like. Which left me with a problem, as I had brought stew that I made last night. It’s good stew. But I wouldn’t want it after eating out. So I solved this little conundrum by pimping out my lunch. At first there was some reluctance. “What’s wrong with it” was the most common response. “Might need a little salt” was my most common reply. But then, well, people got into it. Especially after I threw in the Tejava and sourdough roll. It wound up going to the woman responsible for filling out my review, a bitter subject. A wise call on my part, I think. Sure, I didn’t get any money or sexual favors for my beef stew. But the goodwill may be priceless. Then, she actually tasted the luncheon I had prepared for myself. And then people were flocking to her cubicle. It was like one of those urge to herbal ads that I despise so. Only it was about my beef stew. People asked me if there was more. People asked for the recipe. People asked if I could bring it in a crock pot, like I sometimes do. There was a market for my stew. And with each shared bite from the Tupperware, it became obvious that my stew was a powerful tool. A tool to be used sparingly. Oh, I had blown it with the Mexican Tomato and Chili that I had made for previous work functions. But I would be wise with the stew. I would make it the most sought after commodity in the sales office. My stew would become the stuff of company legend, talked about at company functions and whispered about in the halls. I will be the next soup Nazi. Tributes and offerings will be placed in my cube, and I will select from amongst the most promising to share a few ounces of beef and carrot goodness. That’s how it should be. Instead I’ll end up bitter about the stew as well, since whenever I give out a recipe people always seem to think that mine is somehow better. That only I have the skill needed to turn something written down on a 3x5 index card into culinary delight. Because people are lazy. Or at least they are at my office. I just damn well better get a glowing review.

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