.
.
Recently I decided that for several reasons I would start taking my lunch to work. The reasons are varied ranging from saving money to the hard to believe fact that I may need to lose a little weight. I know that may come as a surprise to those of you who know me, but yes it is true.
I thought to myself, what better time to buy a lunch box than right now? All of the "Back To School" sales will be in full swing and as you all know, the savings can be substantial at these times.
So with all of the wide eyed excitement and optimism of a person thirty some odd years my junior, I headed to the local Walmart, henceforth referred to merely as “The Mart,” where great quality and low prices greet you with each turn of the aisle.
I wasn't exactly sure what kind of lunch pail I was going to get but I had it narrowed down to about five. It was going to be either Scooby Doo, Speed Buggy, Land of the Lost or perhaps even Battlestar Galactica or if I was feeling totally macho maybe a Superman lunch pail.
I went to the big "Back to School" sale area to begin my quest. I knew I was in the right area of the store because there was a huge sign that said "Back to School Savings" hanging precariously from some monofillament fishing line. Even if I didn't find the lunch pail of my dreams I may be able to collect some good law suit money as I was certain that the sign may fall at any moment. I had Vaughn Conway on speed dial just in case.
I searched high and low but did not see any lunch pails. I looked and looked and looked some more and still did not find any lunch pails. Then it occurred to me that perhaps they had placed them in the toy department, because lunch pails are far too cool be lumped in with rulers, notebooks, binders and other generic staples of the classroom.
So my trip to the toy department was just as fruitless as my grand hopes and schemes of big law suit money. Sorry Vaughn, at this point we had both been shut out. So with the determination of an upstream swimming salmon I returned to the "Back To School" section to do battle with all of the others seeking their bargains.
I still had no luck in my search. So finally, with much dismay and a sense of total defeat, I sought out the visionaries in blue. I knew they would be able to help me because the back of their vests even said so! I approached my first "associate" and asked her where the lunch pails were located. With a look of confusion akin to that of a person crawling from the rubble of a collapsed building due to a horrific earthquake she looked me and said, "A what?" I reiterated my request and advised her that I was looking for a lunch pail. "You know maam, something to take your lunch to work or school in," I reprised.
"Oh we have these things over here," she said as she pointed to the small soft side coolers which I had seen many times throughout the day. I described my desire to her..."I want a small square metal box to take my lunch in." I wanted Scooby or Speed Buggy but at this point I would even settle for one of those plaid ones that the weird kids used to have.
She informed me that they didn't have anything like that but she did advise me that, “All of the cool kids use these kind right here," as she pointed to the small, flimsy, flexible, yet thoroughly insulated, pouch that in no way resembled a lunch pail. I asked if she was certain that the totally hip and future upwardly mobile executives of tomorrow were touting this particular model. She assured me, "This is the best seller."
At this point I was not sure whether to cry or puke. The room started spinning (and The Mart” is one big ass room), my eyes started watering, and my hands just kept compulsively balling up into fists as I bit my lip and fought back the tears.
It then occurred to me that the children of today were seriously being deprived of one of the greatest annual joys that a child could encounter next to Christmas. It was an annual rite of passage and pride when you went to select your new lunch pail.
I still remember my first. It was one of those with a hemispherical top that resembled a mailbox. The top had a hinged clip that held the thermos firmly in place. My Dad had chosen it, well because he was a mailman. Even though it was not the nutrition toting vessel of my choice, I still carried it with pride each and every day of the First Grade.
Second grade brought a "Disney Land" lunch pail. I guess Mom knew that the lunch pail was the closest thing our socio-economically challenged family would ever attain related to the Magic Kingdom itself.
Third grade finally brought the elusive holy grail of all lunch toting containers. The valued, and oft coveted, Scooby Doo. This time my Mom had actually delivered me to the TG&Y before the Scooby models had all sold out. Third grade was good to me and Scoob and I packed everything from PB&J to frozen pizza and left over hamburger in that Hanna Barberra trade marked box o' nutrition.
As Fourth Grade approached I decided that I was too old for cartoon themed dining accessories and opted for the NFL...only twenty eight teams back then, but a replica of each and every helmet and team logo adorned my beautiful new lunch pail.
Fifth grade brought a close to the lunch pail toting era of my institutionalized education. By fifth grade I had decided that I would eat in the cafeteria. As I reflected on the many joys that the various lunch pails brought I realized that the kids of today are truly missing out.
Can you slide one of these little "pouches" across the frozen ice only to hear it clang and clatter as it abruptly slams against the concrete retaining wall of the drainage ditch? Could these little pouches be used as a weapon which when properly swung could be an equalizer up against foes as old as an eighth grader? I think not.
This leaves me to wonder. If all the children of today have at their disposal are these little pouches...can America continue to remain a super power?
.
Recently I decided that for several reasons I would start taking my lunch to work. The reasons are varied ranging from saving money to the hard to believe fact that I may need to lose a little weight. I know that may come as a surprise to those of you who know me, but yes it is true.
I thought to myself, what better time to buy a lunch box than right now? All of the "Back To School" sales will be in full swing and as you all know, the savings can be substantial at these times.
So with all of the wide eyed excitement and optimism of a person thirty some odd years my junior, I headed to the local Walmart, henceforth referred to merely as “The Mart,” where great quality and low prices greet you with each turn of the aisle.
I wasn't exactly sure what kind of lunch pail I was going to get but I had it narrowed down to about five. It was going to be either Scooby Doo, Speed Buggy, Land of the Lost or perhaps even Battlestar Galactica or if I was feeling totally macho maybe a Superman lunch pail.
I went to the big "Back to School" sale area to begin my quest. I knew I was in the right area of the store because there was a huge sign that said "Back to School Savings" hanging precariously from some monofillament fishing line. Even if I didn't find the lunch pail of my dreams I may be able to collect some good law suit money as I was certain that the sign may fall at any moment. I had Vaughn Conway on speed dial just in case.
I searched high and low but did not see any lunch pails. I looked and looked and looked some more and still did not find any lunch pails. Then it occurred to me that perhaps they had placed them in the toy department, because lunch pails are far too cool be lumped in with rulers, notebooks, binders and other generic staples of the classroom.
So my trip to the toy department was just as fruitless as my grand hopes and schemes of big law suit money. Sorry Vaughn, at this point we had both been shut out. So with the determination of an upstream swimming salmon I returned to the "Back To School" section to do battle with all of the others seeking their bargains.
I still had no luck in my search. So finally, with much dismay and a sense of total defeat, I sought out the visionaries in blue. I knew they would be able to help me because the back of their vests even said so! I approached my first "associate" and asked her where the lunch pails were located. With a look of confusion akin to that of a person crawling from the rubble of a collapsed building due to a horrific earthquake she looked me and said, "A what?" I reiterated my request and advised her that I was looking for a lunch pail. "You know maam, something to take your lunch to work or school in," I reprised.
"Oh we have these things over here," she said as she pointed to the small soft side coolers which I had seen many times throughout the day. I described my desire to her..."I want a small square metal box to take my lunch in." I wanted Scooby or Speed Buggy but at this point I would even settle for one of those plaid ones that the weird kids used to have.
She informed me that they didn't have anything like that but she did advise me that, “All of the cool kids use these kind right here," as she pointed to the small, flimsy, flexible, yet thoroughly insulated, pouch that in no way resembled a lunch pail. I asked if she was certain that the totally hip and future upwardly mobile executives of tomorrow were touting this particular model. She assured me, "This is the best seller."
At this point I was not sure whether to cry or puke. The room started spinning (and The Mart” is one big ass room), my eyes started watering, and my hands just kept compulsively balling up into fists as I bit my lip and fought back the tears.
It then occurred to me that the children of today were seriously being deprived of one of the greatest annual joys that a child could encounter next to Christmas. It was an annual rite of passage and pride when you went to select your new lunch pail.
I still remember my first. It was one of those with a hemispherical top that resembled a mailbox. The top had a hinged clip that held the thermos firmly in place. My Dad had chosen it, well because he was a mailman. Even though it was not the nutrition toting vessel of my choice, I still carried it with pride each and every day of the First Grade.
Second grade brought a "Disney Land" lunch pail. I guess Mom knew that the lunch pail was the closest thing our socio-economically challenged family would ever attain related to the Magic Kingdom itself.
Third grade finally brought the elusive holy grail of all lunch toting containers. The valued, and oft coveted, Scooby Doo. This time my Mom had actually delivered me to the TG&Y before the Scooby models had all sold out. Third grade was good to me and Scoob and I packed everything from PB&J to frozen pizza and left over hamburger in that Hanna Barberra trade marked box o' nutrition.
As Fourth Grade approached I decided that I was too old for cartoon themed dining accessories and opted for the NFL...only twenty eight teams back then, but a replica of each and every helmet and team logo adorned my beautiful new lunch pail.
Fifth grade brought a close to the lunch pail toting era of my institutionalized education. By fifth grade I had decided that I would eat in the cafeteria. As I reflected on the many joys that the various lunch pails brought I realized that the kids of today are truly missing out.
Can you slide one of these little "pouches" across the frozen ice only to hear it clang and clatter as it abruptly slams against the concrete retaining wall of the drainage ditch? Could these little pouches be used as a weapon which when properly swung could be an equalizer up against foes as old as an eighth grader? I think not.
This leaves me to wonder. If all the children of today have at their disposal are these little pouches...can America continue to remain a super power?
No comments:
Post a Comment