Our boss decided we should have a Saturday meeting to discuss a special project. I was not keen to give up my weekend.
She also suggested that we should meet at her house. I was even less keen on the idea.
For some reason, the other colleagues looked forward to it. So on the appointed day six of us met at my boss' house for the said meeting.
Forgive me for being a party-pooper, or a cynical old fart as welcome as breaking wind in a space suit; but let's be honest, we could just as well have met at the office. It is open on Saturdays and there are plenty meeting rooms available.
I guess the whole intention was to show off her palatial mansion. With surrounding gardens, a swimming pool and wall-to-wall luxury. She did mention that her husband was something important "in the City", (meaning London), and in conversation she did name-drop as to who famous so and so came to her garden parties. She mentioned politicians, celebrities and other people I'd never heard of; but sadly she did not mention our garbage collector, or postman as ever having been invited to her parties.
Unlike my colleagues, I felt ill at ease about it all. But then, perhaps there's something wrong with me. I even chose a glass of lemonade instead of the fancy alcoholic drinks on offer.
Then came the food nicely served by two maids out in the garden.
There was cous cous mixed with lentils, garbanzo and pinto beans salad, quinoa, (pronounced "kinwa" you plebs), tofu, pomegranate seeds, guavas, and some green stuff which looked like cut grass, (I think she said it was a product from seaweeds), sun dried tomatoes on a bed of bulgur wheat tabbouleh, and a variety of other similar delicacies that an ignorant lower species like myself had never heard of.
Not a hamburger or French fries in sight. Not even a Kentucky Fried tortoise or squirrel from her wildlife abundant garden.
She went on to expound the benefits of a vegetarian diet. How healthy it is for us. And how it could save the planet.
Uncharacteristically of me, I kept quiet. But inside I was boiling over and wishing I had a nice piece of steak to chew on. Better than the table leg sawdust she was offering.
Why is it that vegetarian people like to convince you to be like them? I don't go around encouraging everyone to eat meat. If they don't want meat, then good. There's more for me.
And what is all this talk that not eating meat saves the planet? If we don't eat meat there will be more and more animals, cows, sheep, pigs, chickens and so on roaming around. Is her plan to kill them all to extinction? Is that how she will save the planet? Does she really believe it possible that everyone will stop eating meat to save the planet?
As I said, I kept quiet and said nothing. I played around with my fork moving the cous cous here and there on my plate and wished that this meeting team-building event was soon over.
And another thing ... why do you have to say cous cous twice? Why not just say it once ... cous? Does it taste any nicer when you say it twice?
