Newspaper Page Text
Carey Smith
Take Your Work To Lunch
At West Georgia people take
their lunch to work. In Washing
ton, things are done a little
differently. Due to the need
for expedience in every form of
government work, and the great
and unquestionable devotion of
the government employees,
people here take their work to
lunch.
Sitting in a Capitol Hill
cafeteria, talking to a good
friend who works in the
Department of Parchment, I
found that it is not unusual for
very important pieces of
legislation to be composed over
a bowl of rutabagas. He told me
of a few such important laws
that were written between bites
of succotash and mashed
potatoes.
Munching on a pickle relish
and peanut butter sandwich, my
friend told me the story of a
fellow who took a work-lunch
break while writing bills.
“Yep, this fellow came down
to the cafeteria, went through
the line and really piled up the
food He had a briefcase full of
papers, and he dumped ’em out,
right on top of his lunch. He
pulled out a pencil, grabbed one
of the two salt shakers in the
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building, salted a barbon copy
of a letter, and ate it. Fellow
had black teeth all the time.”
said my friend.
My friend continued, “This
guy plowed through a fish
sandwich and a bowl of chile
while he wrote a bill for the
funding of a national fish farm,
and endorsed a grant for the
study of Mexican peppers.
“He salted his eggs as he
authorized funding of several
poultry programs, and
sweetened his coffee as he
researched sugar imports,”
said the man.
“What kind of lunch hour did
he have anyway?” I asked.
“Well,” said my friend, “It
was like this, his coffee was too
full of messages and unan
swered mail. He really didn’t
have a place to work so he
would just park it down here all
day.
“He would sit down here and
work, writing letters on candy
bar wrappers, and signing them
with a stick. He’d send
messages on paper plates by
throwing them, frisbee style,
from one side of the cafeteria to
the other. He wrapped sand
wiches in letterhead stationery
and typed memos on napkins.”
“What happened to this
guy?” I asked.
“Well,” said my friend, “the
day he introduced a bill on the
back of a pack of Daddy chips it
was just too much. He was
grubbing up the place so badly,
they finally had to get rid of
him.”
1 asked my friend where he
was now.
“Well, we got him moved into
the White House, and he cooks
his own breakfast there.
Funniest thing though,the press
people can’t get used to him
vetoing bills with a banana.
Ed Lorenz
(Imagine any of those
despised, humid morns
during summer quarter while a
student is in attendance at this
illustrious institution.)
Zzzzzz...Zzzzzz...
RRRinnnnng. RRRinnng.
RRRinnng. RRRin—CRASH!
Geezz...good gri...fer crying’
out.. .sonv abi... aa aahh.
All right fella, let’s really try
to get outta the sheets. MMMM.
Let’s plug in the coffee pot, then
we’ll see who’s in the ol mirroe
today. Uugh, what a mess.
Drink some java kid; you’ll be
allright.
What am I doin’ here? This is
crazy; me and 999 other crazies
spendin’ a summer here when I
could be wastin’ my time on a
beach. It’s hotter than the
hinges on the gates of hell —
when I get up. Then the tem-
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Typical Days
perature climbs from the
morning low.
Morning! What am I getting
up for at 7:15 in the middle of
June? I oughta be rackin’ my
head on pillows not calc and
chem. Yea, think about it kid;
you’re gonna make a million
after you graduate. Yea.
Maybe.
Oooh, where’d I put my
coffee? This is crazy. THIS is
crazy? Geez, last night was
crazy. Why’d I do that anyhow?
It sure seemed right at the time,
but she wan’t even good lookin’.
Time. What time is it
anyhow? Seven thirty-six.
Hokay. Where’d I put that
shirt? Oooooh. Maybe I’ll get
around to washing one of these
days. Where’d I put those
jeans? Whooh! No doubt about
it now, I gotta get around to
THE WEST GEORGIAN, JUNE 27,1975
washing these things. Maybe
I’ll do the sheets too. Let’s see,
when did I wash last?...moved
in March...April..May...June
...oh well, we’ll worry about
that later. Where is my coffee?
What time is it?...sevennn
thirty-nine, hokay.
Where’s my wallet? Yea,
okay, now the keys. Okay,
wallet, keys, books...books,
where’re those da- here we go!
Where is that coffee?
Oh, great, there it is...ugh,
cold. What’d I do with my pen?
What time is it? Lesee, seven
forty-six.
Looks like I’m gonna be late. I
ante to be late. I’d rather miss it
than be late. Hell, I know about
the revolution anyhow. Damn
the coffee, full speed ahead.
Yaaaawwn...
Zzzzzz...Zzzzzz...
5