Dear Free Lunch,
First let me say, I miss you. We ALL miss you. Mekanism doesn’t feel the same without you. Every Friday for as long as I can remember, you’ve been here, right at noon. A beacon of hope at the end of long week. Friday mornings I’d wake up, exhausted, smelling of booze, falsely thinking it was Saturdays and falling into a pit of despair, until I remembered you. Friday Free Lunch. You were my reason for getting out of bed. In just 4 hours, I’d get to see your steamy face. You were always so prompt, so reliable, and yet so mysterious. “What would you be this week?” we’d all wonder. Spicy Indian curry? Southern BBQ? Or maybe, just maybe, you’d be delicious Banh Mi! You always kept us guessing, lol.
Remember that time you were deep-dish pizza and I brought your leftovers with me to Tahoe? Oh man! That was such a fun weekend. You got to meet all my friends and we rode the chairlift together and played catch phrase and listened to Chumba Wumba (inside joke #blessed). Ha! I’ll never forget, you were the life of the party.
Sure, I’ll admit we had our ups and downs. Like that time you were sushi and I accused you of being “sketchy,” (you weren’t) or that time you were salad and I was like, “OH HELL NO THIS BITCH NEEDS A BURGER.” That was uncalled for, and I’m I sorry. You didn’t deserve to feel unappreciated like that. You always gave so much, and never asked for anything in return. You were free lunch for Christ’s sake! People always said “there was no such thing” as you, but they were wrong. You were real, and we BELIEVED in you. Your presence brought peace to war rooms, laughter between work nemeses, and comfort to hung over tummies. You were a magical unicorn-mermaid hybrid bringing life to the whole office. And now, without warning…. You’re gone.
Ripped from our lives, without warning. All because KEVIN MULROY didn’t do his time-sheets this week. One person… threatening to destroy everything we’ve built together! Free Lunch, if you’re out there reading this, please come back. I promise things will be different. We will never forget to do our timesheets again. It was a careless mistake and it didn’t mean anything. Kevin was probably drunk. I’m sorry for the long letter, I just needed to tell you how I feel. I have to go now. Out into the world in search of something to fill the emptiness inside me. I’m thinking Thai, but who cares. Nothing will ever compare to you. You were so young, so wild, so FREE! Please come back. We’ll be waiting.
With open elevator doors,
P.s. I’m also sorry for the time I left you with that homeless guy on the corner of Market and 6th. I hope he was good to you.