The Cow And I

The Things I Do for Beef...

The things I do for beef. It's quite sad, really, how low I'll sink to get my hands on the stuff. I crave it so much that I'm willing to humiliate myself.

Today, for example, I forgot my wallet at home and, wouldn't you know, I hadn't bagged a lunch. Thus, as the noon hour approached, I was filled with great anxiety. What to do? Well, there's always a solution if one is prepared to work hard and make sacrifices. Obtaining lunch money is no different. I so badly wanted a beef burrito from Casa Samuel. Only $3.76. I just had to work it out, and damn the consequences.

So I did.

I first looked in my desk drawer. Good news, I thought. Two shiny quarters and a nickel, seventeen pennies beckoned from my change box. 72 cents in all. A nice haul.

Then I looked in my briefcase. You see, I'll occasionally dump change into the briefcase after a purchase at the train station when in a hurry. Excellent choice, I thought, as I pulled another dollar thirty five from its dark recesses. $1.69 remaining. Very do-able.

But that's when it got a little trickier. Where would I get the rest? I am not made of money, it doesn't ooze from my pores. It has to come from somewhere. Aha! My coat pocket! I dug deep into each of the side pockets, the inner pocket, and was able to add another 48 cents to my total. Only $1.21 to go.

This is where my trouble began. So near and yet so far. $1.21 is a lot of money when you don't have it. Luckily, I was familiar with the concept of barter, and as one of my colleagues popped her head into my office to ask for a postage stamp, I was ready to deliver. She produced 37 cents, I handed over the goods, and I was that much closer to my goal.

With 84 cents to go, I was stretching myself to the absolute limits. I struggled to imagine where to look next. This money had to exist somewhere. In our multi-billion dollar economy, there wasn't 84 cents somewhere that had somehow fallen through the cracks? Although I'm not a believer in the trickle-down theory, My God, some of that money must've made its way down to me. Come on, it's 84 cents we're talking about here.

Then it hit me. Try the couch. Well, we didn't have any couches at work, but you get the idea. There were places where spare change naturally deposits after being inadvertently dislodged from its owner's pocket. You know, the place where all the missing pens go, all the unpaired socks? So I attempted to translate this paradigm to the office environment. It didn't quite fit, but I would force this square peg into the round hole if I had to use sandpaper.

And guess what: it worked. After pulling out my desk's top drawer all the way, I reached behind, and under, to the space between. Like the fourth dimension, few people know this place exists. But seek and ye shall find. I pulled another 72 cents out of there, along with a layer of dust that, in all likelihood, pre-dated my employment with Lake County. I was so close I could feel it.

The rest was easy. As I said, I am not above groveling, if necessary, to fund my beef habit. Like an addict, I am not averse to scrounging in ways others would find distasteful, even criminal. But 12 cents? Who would object to that? I closed the deal in 5 seconds flat, and was soon on my way to the restaurant to retrieve my takeout order, bag of change in hand.

Of course, the cashier would require some kind of explanation for this horrible inconvenience. My excuse? "Oh, I'm sorry, I just wanted to get rid of this loose change. Terribly sorry."

He made me count it out. It took about 3 minutes. That was ok. I have sunk lower than this to accomplish much less significant goals. I walked back to the office with this beauty, a full six ounce beef burrito, almost as big as my head. (516.9 total)

I'll tell you something else: it was worth every penny. Ah, the things I do for beef.

Posted by eric at March 5, 2004 12:36 PM