A perk

Honestly we don't even know each other's names. There is the one who I got to know over the story of my teen mother, the one who was my sister in endless Springtime bronchitis, the one who envies my flip-flops now that she's back wearing her uniform shoes, the one whose eyes narrowed and whose lips pursed when she realized my students were "them"--well, never mind about her--the cafeteria ladies are my mid-day grown-up company, and I really am quite fond. Mostly we do each other the favor of being someone to talk to besides a fifteen year-old punk kid. In a building full of a thousand teenagers, that's a special gift. But perhaps not as special as what one of the Ladies did for me today. I was wandering through the stations, trying to find something tolerable, when she gestured at the "Chicken" Rings, that totally natural part of every chicken that was my favorite crappy lunch until they went and ruined it by trying to make it more healthy-- an especially futile gesture considering they can't possibly even be meat. (Though the soy content is probably redeeming.)

"They're baked," she sighed. We've had this conversation before. I even agreed to complain to her boss, in a show of aggrieved employee solidarity. Baked "Chicken" Rings are a literally pale imitation, an affront to junk food everywhere. And while they may not literally taste like crap, they certainly have the same texture.

"I know," I moped, as I contemplated my options.

But then--but then--this was so exciting--my best lunch lady friend broke the rules and threw some in the fryer! "Don't tell the kids," she warned, giggling.

"Are you kidding? This is the best lunch ever. You just made my day!" Life may not always be sweet, but sometimes it is indeed artery-clogging good.