satisfied

I enter the conference room and make my way to the far corner. I set my notepad down and walk back toward the door where the line is already ten people long. More are immediately behind me.

The line moves past the table, each person gazing over the food choices. They talk amongst themselves, about what they’ll eat, what looks good and what they’ll avoid. “I would but—,” “I wish I could...” and “those look great, but I probably shouldn’t,” drift about in different voices.

I follow slowly, grabbing bits and pieces and trying to will my paper plate to be as sturdy as plastic. There are a few different things that look enticing, but I don’t know what they are. There are bagels, danish, yogurt and egg McMuffins.

The conversation turns to the edibles’ origins. “Who made that?” “That has to taste good, did Jim bring those?” “Phil, or Phil’s wife, made those. They’re amazing, try one.” “Dan brought the McMuffins. That’s soo funny.”

My plate is full before I pack all onto it that I would like. I go along the outside of the tables, avoiding the rest of the line. I sit, place a paper napkin on my lap and pick up my fork to dive into the assorted breakfast goods.

“Not hungry?”
“No, well, I am and it all looks delicious, but I’ll stick with water and fruit...”

...“You should try this casserole.”
“I would, but I was on vacation, eating whatever I wanted, for the last couple weeks. I’m back on track.”
“Oh, I see. It’s good, though, and there may be some left over for lunch...”

“...Greg’s wife made that. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve heard it’s delicious.”
“Thanks, it looked as much.”

Some sit with the spaces in front of them defiantly empty. They look over notes and converse with those next to them. Their eyes dart to the plates of others.

The meeting begins and conversation quiets. Office matters are discussed and updates are given. I finish what’s on my plate, half a bagel, a slice of quiche, an egg McMuffin and a slice of something that tastes like grilled cheese with egg and ham.

Just over a half-hour later, the meeting is dismissed. The room stands and collectively walks out the closest exit. Except for those, like me, who move back toward the table of food.

I dump my used napkin and the scattered crumbs into the trash before putting two more slices of the grilled breakfast sandwich, another two-thirds of a bagel and some cream cheese onto my plate. The office mothers—those that clean up after and maintain the community areas—move in to bring the food from the conference room into the kitchen.

“I’m so stuffed...”

“...Those slices of casserole were delicious.”
“Have some more, there’s plenty left. I left it next to the McMuffins.”
“Oh, I’m just too full.”

Within two hours, the entire kitchen is clear. Small portions are in the refrigerator. Considering those avoiding, ignoring or too full to partake in the food stuffs, I can only assume the rest has gone missing.