Workin' it at lunch

I went out with some coworkers for lunch today at the Cheesecake Factory (side note: I don’t understand the Cheesecake Factory hype...I’ve eaten there three times now, and it’s just aight for me.) There were ten of us who happened to be off on Thursday with nothing better to do, so why not get drunk and pig out at an expensive restaurant?

We were appropriately seated in the bar area. As we consumed our beverages, we got louder and louder, and I realized the real reason I love the ER. It’s not the adrenaline or the technical procedures, and it’s certainly not the patients. It’s the people I work with--the loud, cussing bunch of people sitting at my table. Everything was “fuck that” and “you gotta try this shit” and “damn!” I began to notice that people at nearby tables were scooting away from us.

Then came the inevitable discussion of disgusting incidents and gory traumas. We honestly forget that these topics aren’t appropriate for meal conversations. Somewhere in between the explanation of how someone got a corn kernel out of a kid’s nose and the description of how much blood was in the vomit of a seizure patient who had bitten his tongue, the last lunch patron in our area stood up and left. We had completely cleared the area.

“Damn, if only this worked in the waiting room at work.”