We entered the canteen in the basement of 5, Sylvan Way. Its a little walk from 3,Sylvan Way through the basement car park. Today wasn't really my day to begin with. I had just screwed up on my status call and my business analyst wasn't working. But why not let's leave that aside for the moment. So, the canteen.

I stood in line for my turn. There is this fat Italian guy, who is by far the snobbiest guy I have ever seen in whatever I have seen of my inconsequential life. My turn came and I gave my order: 'One veggie sandwich, please'. He pointed at a packaged item nearby. It read 'Vegetable Panini sandwich'. Grilled vegetable, some thing dipped in some other thing. I am sure it was nothing non-vegetarian. But I really couldn't say. Alarm bells had gone off inside my head. I hadn't heard of it before, and there was no way I was going to try it out. So I said, 'No panini!'. There was stunned silence all around. The two guys looked at each other and started laughing.

The fat guy pulled out a wheat bread and started filling it up with vegetables, spinach and pickle. Can you imagine that? Cucumber is called pickle in this country!!! So he filled it up and pushed it toward me. I pushed it back and said that I wanted it grilled.

He gave me an incredulous look and said, 'you said you didn't want it grilled!'. Wha..what?!!! Now when did I say I didn't want it grilled?! I told him again, that I wanted it grilled. He repeated, 'But you said that you didn't want it grilled!'. There was no way I could get through to him and get him to understand. So I said, 'Fine...' I took the uncooked bread and vegetables and went to the paying counter. '3$ and 27 cents', she said. I reluctantly pulled out a 5$ bill and gave it to her. She gave me the change and I proceeded to eat.

It tasted like soiled clothes. The jalapanoes was too much and the rest of it was too little or none. Grill, none. Taste, none. Heat, none. I cursed the fat Italian, for he had successfully screwed up my lunch. To think I'd call this lunch would have been hilarious. But I was not feeling remotely humorous. I tried pushing the sandwich in, but my throat revolted until I could push no further. I laid back and pecked on the onion rings while my colleague 'feasted' on the salad. There was nothing else to do, but wait and look at the remnants of my lunch. Another Gujarati colleague and friend of mine brought food from home. Aah! Home made Gujarati food! That's a delicacy not available to lesser mortals as us. We eat whatever crap we cook.

As the referee would say, 'Time! Quite please. Thank you.'