Fourteen Pieces of Bacon

Work is exhausting. I know, I know, everyone's job has its ups and downs, everyone has some amount of stress and some amout of emotion, and well, let's face it, work is work, otherwise why would get paid for it? Granted, my job is one that most of the people who perform it well don't get actually paid to do. But you multiply what a stay-at home mom does times 20 children and subtract the sleepless nights and gorcery store runs, and emotional reward of them being your own kids, and you have the reason I get paid to do my job. By the time I walk into the classroom in the morning my head is already ringing with whining and tantrums. By the time we head out for recess, I need to be outside as much as the kids do, and by the time my lunch break comes around, I can't actually accomplish anything, I just need a little food and some sleep. I could run down to where foothill turns into 4th south and have my pick of any number of restaurants and food choices. I could run over to Sugarhouse for even more options, some of which I crave throughout the day. But there is a little sandwich shop immediately accross the sidewalk from my building, and I am afraid they have had my business since the first week I worked here. It is ridiculously priced. A cheese quesadilla is considered a grill item, and costs $6. I make cheese quesadillas at home sometimes, I know that I could make at least 45 cheese quesadillas for $6. and that's not the least of it. But a 32 oz refill of Dr. Pepper is only 70 cents, and so I tote my water bottle along and one day a week I allow myself to have that 32 oz goodness. And a half an egg salad sandwich on wheat bread is only $2.42. And it comes with a pickle. I swear half the time I get that sandwich, I am paying for the garlicky crunch of a deli pickle. I don't care how many commercials claim that they are selling deli pickles at the grocery story, they have got nothing on a real deli pickle. It's like the difference between pre-bottled Dr Pepper and Fountain Drink Dr Pepper. That stuff in a can is an entirely different beast than the stuff that comes freshly mixed. Occasionally, depending on who makes my sandwich, I get 2 pickles. If its the old lady, she usually forgets my pickle, but if its the scruffy guy or the tall girl, I get 2 pickles. Joy of joys. I don't know why some of the people there seem to like me, but I can accept the double pickle days as an offer of friendship and validation.

Work also has become more interesting lately. Someone dared compliment me on "lightening up" lately. I was appalled. Here was a person that had never once spoken to me, never extended an offer of friendship, and had shot me down everytime I tried to converse with her. She was one of the people that would contribute to the awkward silence every time I tried to make a joke the first month I was here, and suddenly she has decided that I have lightened up? My behavior hasn't changed! Because of the people I was working immediately with, she judged me to be prude and judgemental of her (and I will admit that I was working with peole that did treat her that way, although every effort I made towards her was shot down.) Since my immediate co-worker has changed to someone that is in her circle of friends, and since that person has decided she approved of me, then this ringleader of the "popular crowd" has now deigned to offer her approval of me by telling me she was glad I had learned to "lighten up". I felt like I was in high school, which is a nearly unforgiveable abuse in my book. (And especially going into planning a visit with my old co-workers that actually liked me without needing petty social approval, it was a stark contrast) And you can be guaranteed that me and my big passive agressive mouth weren't so generous in returning her feigned compliment. I told her I didn't particularly value her approval, and that although I'm sure it was a nice gesture, it would have been nicer 8 months ago. How's that for "lightening up"?

I left the conversation headed over to the deli for my sandwich and pickle. Of course in the time it took me to cross the sidewalk, I had already over-analyzed the conversation and become even more irritated with her and though of a hundred better things to say in such a situation. If there was ever an ill-timed emotional eating experience, this was it. I stood staring at the menu wondering what I could reasonably consume without shelling out half my life savings and at the same time satisfying the emotional hungry monster that had relocated to my heart.

The Deli was almost closing, the grill was already closed. I was forced to pare down to the deli sandwich menu. (This is a good thing, because I might have allowed myself to spend $7.50 for a chicken quesadilla). My eyes scanned until they came to the BLT. Oh sweet BLT. I do love one on my mom's homemade bread, toasted and with thick tomato slices and crispy crispy bacon. That sounded like exactly what I wanted. One half of a BLT, for $3.68. Perfect. And there was tall girl, my hope for two pickles leaped into my heart. She handed my deli box and I nearly ran out to the privacy of my car to enjoy it in peace.

I hooked my MoTab laden ipod to my radio as I opened the deli box. One Pickle. Hmm. The samdwich seems pretty thick. Did they stuff too much lettuce on there? I prepared to pick off the unnecessary greens. Nope, thats not lettuce, its just alot of bacon. Bacon? Bacon is the sodium of the sanwich. Everyone knows you only put two pieces of bacon on any sandwich. May 3 for a BLT. Its fatty and flavor packed, you don't NEED more. You just always WANT more. I'm not complaining. By no means should anyone ever complain about too much bacon. I can't even believe I just thought that! There is no such thing as too much bacon! I took a bite. Its a good thing I was in the privacy of my car. Do you know why we only put one or two pieces of bacon on a BLT? Remember how it's sort of hard to bite off just a piece of bacon, usually the whole piece comes out of the sandwich? Remember how bacon is mostly fat and sodium, and its sort of hard to really chew it? Most of the bacon came out of the sandwich with that first bite, and I certainly couldn't chew it. Even my big passive agressive mouth couldn't handle that much bacon. I promptly opened the sandwich and began counting the bacon as I pulled it off the sandwich.

Fourteen.

Remember how I ordered a half sandwich? This is basic math folks. Think about how many pieces of bacon are in a one pound package of bacon. Think about how much bacon there would have been if I ordered a full sandwich. That's right folks, there is such a thing as too much bacon. You will know if it is hanging out of your mouth and getting mayonaise on your shirt and you can't even taste the tomato.

When I headed back into work, I asked my friend that works the front desk if she had ever ordered a BLT at the Deli. Yes. Was there a reasonable amount of bacon involved? Yes, 3 pieces. Normal, maybe a little stingy for a whole sandwich. OH. Then the kicker. "Sometimes I think I get the sandwiches just for the pickles. I wish they would give me two pickles once in a while."

"They never do?"

"No, not even if I ask."

"Not even scruffy guy or tall girl?"

"No. Why? Do you get two pickles?"

"At least once a week. And my half BLT today had 14 pieces of bacon on it."

"No Fair! They must like you better than they like the rest of us!"

Well maybe they do.

It seems to me that if you are wanting approval from someone, you should get it from the people that make your sandwiches.