The Other Side...

Last Wednesday, lunch hour in the office was different. I went on a mindless hunt all by myself to find a different than usual place to eat. But working in the hot spot of Dubai’s main business district meant that my options were, to say the least, boring. The unforgiving summer afternoon bore down on me and I cursed myself for walking half a mile to nowhere from my cool and cozy workspace. The smell of Somewhere Fried Chicken and Pizza Somewhere wafted by and spun around me. I stopped, inhaled and tried very hard to control. Beads of sweat trickled down and the ever-ready migraine made a quiet and creepy start in my head. As I turned to mop my face, the usual Somebody’s burger joint caught my eye. Nearby stood a posh café that I had enjoyed a sandwich in a few days ago. A pricey little place with a snooty staff that makes Salads look like the greatest gift of God to mankind. Between the two, I was dying of hunger. I needed fast service. Really fast service. So the junk-house was my best bet after all. I spun on my feet and dashed through the revolving door of the building it was housed in. The first cool breeze of the centrally air-conditioned lobby hit my blazing face. All around, there was the familiar hobnobbing of office-goers all out for a breath of fresh air in a building other than their office towers. One passerby loudly muttered into his N70, making it a little too obvious of course, that “money was not so important”. It is always amusing when you walk through a crowded public spot and overhear bits and pieces of conversation. Human enough, your mind conjures up the beginning and ending of that story – one of its own. Perhaps the gentleman who bellowed that money was not so important probably had some bankers on his tail. But I didn’t have much time to cook that up while my tummy rumbled. I hopped down the corridor and made my way to Somebody’s Burger joint. The buzz was uplifting and the aroma of freshly grilled patties tucked under sesame seasoned buns reminded me just how hungry I was. I dashed over to the counter, erm, the line. Sixth. Fifth. The little kid runs away. Fourth. Third. Second. Grr… Miss-Neverland wants know the difference between spicy and original. Now she wants to wash that cola down for a diet version. First. Yay! I took a moment and rattled off my order. Everything I could think of on a tray or two fitted the bill. I stood there beaming… No, did not forget my purse. The bill was settled, the food was served. I bludgeoned my way through the meal. As I looked around satisfied, people from all walks of life sat there. Talking, eating, resting. The salad people reading through some terribly fancy magazines and picking on their bowls. The executives sawing their way into double sized burgers. Two teenagers tired of scouring for summer jobs sharing French fries. It was the teenagers who made me look twice… Back at University, meals were discounted in our food court, or so you’d think. Still quite expensive when I think back to it. So two of us shared one meal. It was a matter of personal pride to coax the servers into pouring extra chicken gravy on our combos. The girls always ordered the food for the group a) because the boys were lazy and b) because they returned with value for money i.e. more complements with the same meal. In our last semester, a new ‘fast-food’ restaurant opened up in the food court. Ridiculously cheap. The food was something we are all very accustomed to in Dubai. Homestyle wraps and sandwiches with a dash of French fries and fresh juice – a meal conjured up by the very ambitious South Indian entrepreneurs and served in almost every “cafeteria” you visit in Dubai. One of them had the brainiest of ideas to open up at our Uni foodcourt and instantly attracted a herd of students with large appetites and marginal pocket money. I went on those meals for one full week until I fell sick and swore myself off them. And here I was… choosing between a meal that costs 7 times my Uni meal and Somebody’s burger joint which by current standards is ‘cheap’. Gobbling an experimental burger down. Sipping orange juice. Tackling my apple pie and thinking of carrying donuts back to the office. Well, I was also thinking about the report that was due. And the cheques that needed my attention. The travel allowance I had to settle… Before I knew it, my meal was over… and I saw the 17 year olds sharing a funny sms on their phone. For a moment, I reacted with a giggle, just because I saw them laugh. They turned and looked at me. Dressed to the nines. My bulging branded wallet seated next to my Peugeot’s keychain. A prominent access card hanging from my neck. A couple of embarrassed faces giving me a passive smile as I reciprocated. I don’t know if at that moment, both sides wanted to swap places. I still don’t know what could be more fun. But I do know I envy the kids. Darn… do you have to give some to get some ?!