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Rated: E · Fiction · Women's · #2253047
Alice grows weary of Door Dash at the desk
A large piece of spinach flopped out of the bland veggie sandwich Alice got from somewhere on Door Dash; flecked with mayo, it left an unsightly stain on her inventory form. Her colleague Doreen came to the door, so Alice covered the stain with her hand.

“Hi, Doreen,” she mumbled, trying to finish chewing as quickly as possible, wiping her lips. Doreen came into their shared office, her bracelets jangling like it was still the ‘80’s. She was slender, 50-something to Alice’s 40, her dyed hair still long.

“A lunch counter, next door, Alice,” Doreen said. “Can you believe it? I thought they phased those out by the 1970’s. You should come with us tomorrow.”

“I will if I can finish the inventory first,” she said. “Do they have vegetarian stuff?”

“I think I saw a cheddar cheese and tomato sandwich on the menu. And the ham and American cheese tasted like what my aunt would make. Not too big, but with a great dressing. I swear, it must have been Miracle Whip, that tangy mayo stuff from way back in the 1940’s. And a pickle spear on the side, and a handful of Pop Chips.”

“Sounds, great, Doreen,” Alice said, smiling. “I wish I had time.”

That night Alice stayed a bit late, unpaid, to finish the inventory, and it was solely in anticipation of the lunch counter. No more ruining forms, burning herself out eating at her desk and burning through her budget with Door Dash. Maybe she could even have a chatty work friend.

“Doreen, here I come!” she said precisely at 1:00 p.m., and together they charged out the door.

At 1:30, Alice and Doreen hopped back into the work of counting cogs, the lingering memory of Miracle Whip on their tongues.
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