There are few atrocities in the workplace that can harbor more grievances and ill-will than those acts committed against another colleague’s lunch. We can probably all think of an instance in which we or someone we know were hanging on through a dreadful workday only by the mere foreknowledge of what tastey lunch awaited us….only for it to be laid waste by a poorly communicated refrigerator clean-out….or a container mix-up in which someone eats half your food before “realizing it wasn’t there’s, they just have the same Tupperware set”. True story! I also remember an instance working in an office when the victim of a lunch theft waited until their suspect was heating up food the next day and just threw the food then whole microwave in the trash as vengeance. Again there is nothing quite like a lunchtime infarction to fuel resentments against our fellow humans. Wars have been fought and lost over these embitterments and despite what history might teach, I’m not entirely certain that the Hatfield & McCoy feuds did not begin on the grounds of a stolen paper lunch sack of apple butter and drop biscuits.
I friends, unwittingly committed such an atrocity today. The morning had begun like many others. Tom and I drove around, opened the restrooms and began our tasks of picking up the trash left behind from patrons enjoying the park and fine weather over the weekend. It really was rather light this morning and we were both in agreement that we’d seen far worse and felt rather fortunate. It was starting out to be a gorgeous day, and one prime for cutting grass and the dogwoods were in full bloom. I’d say it was nearly perfect if but for the dog-pecker gnats that begin swarming when the conditions of wet soil, low winds and idleness were met.
Will, our offender crew supervisor, had returned to the park from picking up the 4 state penitentiary prisoners. They were strong dudes with really pleasant attitudes about hard work outdoors. I’d spoken with them a few times and they seemed really grateful to get out in the sunshine and fresh air a few days a week. None of them had committed anything near as atrocious as Charles Ponzi, Bernie Madoff, or Kenneth Lay and the offender crews in the past had even been allowed to eat lunch in the breakroom with the rest of us….at least until the pudding cup incident of 2017.
It’s pretty well known and much to the chagrin of some that prisoners are poorly fed. Most days they receive a half loaf of crumbly white bread, warm and slightly green lunch meat, and tiny apples as hard as a stone with a worm hole or two. As legend speaks, one former inmate worker grew covetous of our supervisor’s stash of pudding cups and took one. Maybe he assumed that he would be none the wiser, but it was a very human mistake that greatly upset the boss. All the subsequent prisoners since have been banished to eat their warm lunch meat sandwiches and stoney apples henceforth in yonder fields when the weather is fair or in the barn when not. Needless to say, I’ve personally seen the meagerness of these lunches and have experienced the insatiable hunger that transpires from a long morning of cutting and wrestling honeysuckle and stand in awe as to how it is accomplished by these fellows with such minimal caloric intake.
The inmates had a busy morning today, consisting of disassembling partition dividers in the main bathroom as well as fighting the good fight against invasive honeysuckle. Tom, Steve, Dave and I cut grass until lunchtime and convened in the breakroom to eat and watch The Price is Right and hear Dave explain, like every other day the impossible strategy of how to win at each game. His father had been a contestant on the show, and Dave is a real character worthy of his own story at a different time.
We all saddled up our mowing ponies and took off in different directions to ride the ranch through the afternoon. As I motored past the 700 buildings I could make out the prisoners in their yellow jump suits and Will stood out in the road to flag me down. He was wearing his worried and defeated expression. “Did you clean the 700 buildings this morning?” he inquired. “Because someone threw away his lunch”
I look over at one of the guys he seemed to be a little defeated. I would’ve been pretty upset if I were him but it was clear he had cultivated a level of acceptance that Ive witnessed in a rare few individuals. He laughed out loud, smiled and said “Hey man, Did you throw away my oatmeal?” I remembered talking with him last week. He was supposed to be at the end of a 19 year sentence in January.
“Oh sh*t! I’m sorry” I said and remembered throwing away a small package of brown sugar oatmeal in a “used to be” bread sack with a “used to be” plastic burrito bowl and spoon from Qdoba. I didn’t feel the least bit threatened by this guy, just really terrible that I’d tossed out his lunch and something that seemed so small and insignificant to me, was probably a genuine treat for a 19 year inmate of a state penitentiary.
I got back on my mower and drove up to the breakroom and gathered all my snacks…a bag of fresh grapes, some crackers and cheese, peanuts and Tom even threw in some cookies. The boss was still pretty upset over his pudding cup loss from 2 years ago, so he declined to donate but I was able to retrieve the oatmeal with ease and brought all this to him for his lunch. I don’t think anyone had treated this guy with any kindness in a long while and he seemed pretty overwhelmed by it all. I’m relatively certain he won’t be looking to beat my a$$ in January.
I spent the rest of the afternoon zipping around on the mower and thinking about how easy it can be to fall into the habit of seeing others as roles instead of human beings. Cashier – human. Secretary – human. Parent – human. Waitress – human. Housekeeper – human. Prisoner – human. And although it’s convenient and sometimes necessary for society to lock up some of its members, we shouldn’t throw away their lives and humanity and certainly not their lunches.
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