My lunchtime routine for years was a sandwich from home eaten at my desk followed by a 45-minute walk around the office park. I began brown-bagging to control the calories I consume and to know what was in my lunch.
My co-workers have always invited me to go out with them and I have politely declined. But couple of months before I retired, I finally said yes. I thought a change in routine would be good for me and this would allow me to get to know my co-workers a little better.
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| A home-made pasta dinner from a long-forgotten recipe. |
Away we went to a chain restaurant specializing in Middle Eastern foods. I had never heard of the place but my colleagues are regulars there and they assured me that the food was good.
To order lunch, you have to know the 'process'
My colleagues quickly placed their orders while I scanned the menu board for kebobs. I couldn’t find one. The restaurant had posted a process for ordering.
- First, I needed to choose a base. That meant rice, pita bread, salad or a wrap, which the restaurant calls “laffa.”
- Then I was instructed to select from six protein options, eight vegetables and six sauces, including something called “s’hug.”
I had the feeling that the counter staff was laffa-ing at me for my lack of understanding. By the time I waded through the options and ordered my lunch, my colleagues were halfway through theirs. We talked a little shop and a little sports and went back to work.
The next day they invited me to lunch again. This time we went to a popular pizza chain. As was the case yesterday, my colleagues ordered their favorites without blinking an eye. I scanned the menu board for a a sausage-and-onion pie but there was no such thing.
But once again, there was a “process.”
- First the size (mini, mod or mega).
- Then the base (red sauce, white sauce, pesto, barbecue or garlic rub)”
- Then toppings (there were 17 vegetables, five cheeses and nine meats, including mild or spicy sausage).
This was not easy. I sifted through the dozens of permutations and combinations. I could feel the impatience of the counter staff toward me. It was so thick you could cut it with a pizza wheel.
Too many choices complicated my lunch order
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| This was a tasty course on a trip to Spain. |
My co-workers and I visited a different chain every day for the rest of the week. Each time I had to wade through myriad options and obfuscations. The noodle place offered Italian, Japanese and Chinese noodles. But did I want them with sauce or no sauce? Spicy, extra spicy or no spice? Vegetables? Vegetarian or non-veg? What kind of protein?
By the way, when did chicken, beef and ham become “protein?” Who talks like that, aside from TV chefs?
All I wanted at the national hamburger chain was a burger, fries and coffee. Instead, the menu board listed everything as a “bundle” or as a “value meal.” And so as not to confuse the cashier, please order by number. At least they didn’t ask about protein.
When did ordering lunch become so complicated? And exhausting? I longed for the old days when lunch was a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of navy bean soup at the corner coffee shop served by a waitress.
Even it that combo exists somewhere in a national chain restaurant, I bet it wouldn’t be easy to order. I’d have to select from multigrain, focaccia or gluten-free bread. There would be seven dairy and non-dairy cheese types, and conventional or non-GMO beans.
Restaurant chains have complicated lunch
In the name of customer service, restaurant chains have complicated lunch by offering too many choices. They want to “customize the experience” for the consumer. But for a first-time patron like me, trying to de-code their menu board makes me feel like I’m an outsider because I don’t know the secret handshake of their exclusive club.
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| You won't find this dish at any chain restaurant. |
Did you ever panic when you couldn’t find your departure gate on the board at the airport, only to realize you were looking at the arrivals board? That’s how I was feeling when we went to a new restaurant. Faced with making so many choices, I panicked.
After a month of eating out, I finally broke the code and learned the ordering systems of a half-dozen restaurants. I had my favorites at each chain, and I could order as fast as my colleagues. I had no tolerance for the newbies who didn’t know their toppings from their proteins.
Then one morning I overheard my co-workers making lunch plans. They stopped by my office and told me they were going to the pizza place.They weren't referring to the sandwich shop; they were talking about me when they said, “Let’s go to Potbelly’s.” I had acquired a nickname.
The next day I stopped ordering out and went back to the brown bag. And a walk around the office park.