I have one where I work, do you? When I bring my lunch out & start eating, he squints his eyes to see what I’m eating. But that’s not good enough. He has to get up, come over to my cube & lean over the divider until he can really get a good close-up look and my midday nourishment.
“Whatcha eatin?” he says.
“My Lunch” I say, in a tone of voice that is not unfriendly but makes the point that I AM ON MY LUNCH BREAK SO PLEASE GO AWAY.
Ahem.
“Wow. Make that yourself?” The inspector asks.
“Absolutely” I say, with my head still angled downward but looking at him through my eyebrows. “Two pieces of bread with some meat in between. And I made it all by myself!”
After a few moments of awkward scilence (except for the sound of a sandwich being chewed) and no direct eye contact, the inspector asks…
“Did you put mustard on it?”
And so on, until something more interesting happens in the office, such as somebody opens up a Lean Cuisine.
“Hey is that beef with broccoli?”…
What is the deal with these people? What is it about food that makes people so nosy? If I saw somebody trying to have lunch, I would make sure to leave that person alone! Soon the lunch hour will be over and it’ll be back to the bitter, spiteful customer service agent duty.
At a sci-fi convention in Oklahoma City I puchased a Klingon Cookbook. Perfectly edible recipes but colored and/or formed in odd ways. Noodle recipes with names like “Rotting Ghak”. There was an appetized with blue dyed cream cheese called “Sliced Andorian”. What about “Fried Ferengi Ears”? If you exhibited a few of these things maybe the lunch inspector would be turned off.
eat foods most people think are disgusting and incessantly offer him some!
Lunch Inspector: Whatcha eating there?
BadNews: Menudo (mexican tripe soup)
LI: ewwwww
BN:Here eat some
LI:no thank you
BN:No really, its awesome. My mom made it.
LI:no, really…
BN:Are you implying that my mom is a bad cook?
LI:NO!
BN:Oh. so you just hate it cause its Mexican?
LI:NO! I never said that!
BN:(glares at LI)
Lunch Inspector has never come back!
I now eat in peace!
And chew with your mouth open while talking to him.
Failing that, make copious use of green and blue food coloring, and say “Well, I’m not sure exactly what it is, it was in the back of the fridge, but it tastes OK.”
All good suggestions, trouble is today I actually made something appealing. I can’t go into the break room because there is always a soap-fest or springer-fest or judge judy-fest going on in there and if I sit in there too long I can actually feel my IQ dropping.
I’m just going to stab him with my chop sticks today. If that doesn’t work, I’m going to have to stop showering.
Whenever I go out for dinner with friends spouse always asks what I ate. Why on earth does it matter what I ate? How about asking how my friends are doing? Mother in Law does the same thing though so I guess it was come by honestly.
Oo. Those drive me batty. And I’m already batty to begin with.
I have a lunch inspector at work too. In fact, she’s the inspector of everything.
Our discussion yesterday went like this…
Inspector: Hi Elly. Whatcha eatin’?
Elenfair: Lunch.
I: Looks good, but you’re not eating enough.
E: grumff
I: Really. But what’s in the sandwich? Smells good.
E: Dead fish.
I: Ewww… tuna?
E: … yeah, and maybe some bits of dolphin.
I: Ewww… you really should eat more, though. Those carrots in your bag are aweful small.
E: grumffchew chew
I: Honest.
E: chew
I: It’s like those stitches on your forehead, when are they coming out?
E: Next week.
I: Really? Well you should start taking vitamin supplements, too. Looks like you have a nasty sunburn
E: (what the fuck does that have to do with anything?) chew chew Really?
I: Yeah. Oh, and I’ll get you started on calcium. I’ll bring you some. I’ve got lots.
E: (I bet now she’ll also say I need new tupperware?)
I: By the way, those containers look like they should be replaced…
E: (gaaaaaah!)
I: I’m having a tupperware party next weekend? Wanna come? Of course you do… I’ll come pick you up around 8 pm next Friday, k?
E: Actually I have plans…
I: C’moooon… you need to eat more, and I’ll feed ya, and I’ll give you those vitamins too while you’re there…
E: (GAAAAAAAAAH)
Yah, I hate lunch inspectors too. But I think book inspectors are the lowest form of life on the planet.
BI: Hey, whatcha reading?
Me: Oh, nothing (in an attempt to disinterest BI)
BI: (looks at cover. I mean, he CRANES his neck in an attempt to look between my knees because I’m resting the book on my lap.)
Me: (wishes he had a firearm)
Other inspectors that peeve me include the hairstyle inspector. My hairstyle changes with the month. Last month, it was parted down the center. Now, it’s combed back, and hair-sprayed into oblivion. I hate it when people ask me the motivations behind the change. Look, people, I just like playing around with my hairstyle, okay?
