Way back when I never really had any money, the days when I was not above sitting around with my housemate rolling up change to pay the rent at the end of the month, I could always scrounge up the money to go out to lunch. Back then, it seemed that my housemate was going through a break-up every other week. Lunch was a cheap form of emotional therapy. We could meet when my courier job sent me near her place of work and have someone bring us food for relatively little money.
Sure, it would have been better to put the money towards rent, but sometimes, especially when in your twenties, doing the right thing is easily overlooked.
Maybe it's because I spent most of my school career through high school looking into a brown sack to find another PB & J sandwich and a ring ding.
When I worked at the Smithsonian the other GS-5ers and I would have leisurely lunches that started as soon as our boss left and ended almost 90 minutes later. When questioned we let him know that we left for lunch at 12:45, about 15 minutes before he was scheduled to return. It was dishonest. We'd leave 1o to 15 minutes after him and head to places like Armand's for the all you can eat pizza bar or the Tune Inn on the hill for great, greasy burgers. Sometimes we'd nap on the mall, if it was cold we'd head to the Hirshorn Museum for a nap on the comfy, leather couches found on the third floor.
During the school year my lunch hour is only 35 minutes. It doesn't leave time for napping or wandering around town. I pack my own lunch, and it's hardly ever a PB& J.
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