The Sandwich Incident - 2002

Number 16 of my Day Zero Project is to 'Write about 5 experiences/incidents/events in my past.'

So without further delay, here is number 1:

There weren’t many perks that came with the summer job I had back in 2002. I was working for a reputable solicitors firm in the city centre. I feel it best to withhold the name of the said firm, just in case this information is leaked and they decide they would like to prosecute. The men were generally young and wore sharp, tailored suits with shiny Barker shoes, the women equally as glamorous with their manicured nails, freshly coiffed hair and God forbid if they were ever seen in the same outfit twice. I, however, clearly wasn’t a high-flying solicitor or even a high-flying solicitor’s second hand woman. I was the bottom of the pile – I was The Post Girl.

One of my many responsibilities within this role was to order and set up lunches for the many board meetings that took place. I had two other colleagues who worked with me in the post room whose names I shall also withhold just in case they get wind of this and decide to come and hunt me down. We were pretty different the three of us. I guess we wouldn’t have been friends outside work, but we did have a giggle together. Anyway, we used to love it when there was a board meeting as part of our job was to tidy up when the meetings where over. Our interpretation of ‘tidying up’ was eating up any leftovers. Well, it would have been completely against my environmental and sociological views not to!

There were two sandwich companies we used depending on the importance of the people attending the meetings. The more expensive company served up delights like roasted vegetable and cream cheese on a sun dried tomato focaccia, prawn and crayfish in a rich marie rose sauce with rocket on a poppy seed bap and so on. For a self-confessed sandwich lover, it put in me in a pretty good mood when I had to ‘tidy up’ these beauties. My post room colleagues and I would give each other a sneaky smirk when the more expensive company was requested.

On the day in question, I was in a bit of a hurry. One of the top solicitors had an errand for me to run so I was rushing about trying to get the board meeting set up. It was at the top of the building so I was running up and down the stairs like a crazy woman. It was coming up to lunchtime too and, as the people close to me reading this will know, this is not my best time. I get a bit wobbly and more scatty than usual. So, the table was set up, 10 minutes to go before everyone started to arrive for their lunch. I went into the dusty broom cupboard where the sandwiches were always kept as it was the coldest room in the building. I grabbed the platter of sandwiches and then…… tripped over a stupidly placed computer lead. I did the heroic thing. I did try and save those sandwiches. I put my knees out instead of letting go of the platter to brace my fall. But to no avail. The sandwiches flew across the room with immense speed and landed face up on the floor.

Of course the platter had cling film on. Had being the operative word here. Before I grabbed the platter off the shelf, I just thought I’d sample one little sandwich, just to make sure they were up to scratch you understand. This was a very important meeting. As I stood there with half a sandwich still in my mouth I looked around at the carnage. If only they had gone for the cheap ones, the ham ones, the chicken ones! But no, these were the posh ones, the sloppy ones.

I had two choices. Admit what had happened and be faced with a room full of hungry, angry, serious looking solicitors.  Or scrape the filling off the floor, pick off the visible grit and fluff, slap it back in the sandwiches quick smart and get the hell out of there.

I did what I had to do. Five minutes later the sandwiches were in pride of place on the centre of the table. A whole roll of kitchen roll later and after a bit of rearranging of stuff in the cupboard, all evidence of the disaster was gone.

I went off on my errand. I came back bracing myself for someone to have somehow found out what had happened. But I made it up the 3 floors, exchanging numerous slightly manic smiles with the people I passed. I finally reached the safety of the post room.  As I sat down, about to retell my colleagues about the disaster, one of them chipped in first:  

“Cor Kelly you really missed out this afternoon. Those sarnies were a-m-a-z-i-n-g!!’