Overheard // Love me, love my lunchbox (one culinary conversation too far…)

There’s a strange breed of human who walks and lunches amongst us. They have a phone in one hand and they ain’t afraid to use it. They have an hour long lunch break in both hands and they ain’t afraid to abuse it. The strain of this Homo sapiens? I’ll refer to them by their full title, the ‘I ring my boyfriend / girlfriend on my lunch break for no apparent reason other than to discuss the contents of my lunch and you, the general public, are privy to a conversation more stale than the ham sandwich I made this morning’. Catchy, non?

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.  The conversation typically goes thus:


What are you doing?

You’re having your lunch are you?

[They’re having their lunch]

Yeah, me too

[They’re having their lunch too]

What are you having?

Oh you’re having a sandwich? What’s in the sandwich?

[cliffhanger moment]

Oh really?

Yeah, I’m having a wrap.

[Phew. They’re having a wrap]

One of those new wraps from Sainsburys.

[A new wrap from Sainsburys]

With a packet of crisps.

[See above]

Yeah, McCoys.

[Should have gone for Tyrells]

And a banana.

[Vain attempt for their 5 a day]

Yeah, a banana.

Yeah, you know I like bananas.

Why don’t you like bananas again?

Oh yeah, I remember you telling me yesterday. Oh God, yeah I remember now.

[The only time I have any interest, praying their other half had some bizarre freak accident involving a banana in some very dark place. A girl can only dream…]

Yeah, it’s OK. There was an offer on in Sainsburys.


And it’s one of those new wraps.


Yeah, a new one.


OK, I’d better go – I just wanted to see how you were.

Have a good afternoon…

…Oh and one last thing….

Yeah I was just thinking….

So what shall we have for dinner…?

[Cue: irreversible coma].

GIVE. ME STRENGTH. If I’d wanted my Starbucks beverage with a side of excitement, I’d have bought a chocolate coin. Not only does this noise pollution wreak havoc with my concentration (sometimes I like to actually read Look Magazine rather than just look at the pictures, yeah?), it leaves me just one more lunch break away from signing up to the nearest Monastery, for fear that on embarking on my next relationship I may gain a boyfriend but apparently simultaneously lose half my brain cells. For a girl who daydreams about pick and mix, these mind numbingly boring monologues are a culinary conversation too far. I, for one, long for the day I overhear couples discussing a cure for cancer, the meaning of life or at least who deserves to win Channel 4’s Great British Hairdresser . It’s a wrap.

– Katy Brown

  • Comments

  • avatar

    Excellent observation, It rots my soul on a daily basis the monotany of pointless irrelevant conversations between co workers, who think for some god forsaken reason, that just because they have manged to snare some other inadequate human being into a relationship, that anyone within the earshot is the slightest bit interested in their banal humdrum existence. I often find that these particular type of people are in general not the slightest bit attractive, interesting or indeed have an edge to them in any shape or form. Just this vortex of squareness, blandness, smugness and tedium in which they actually think that someone might give a shit about them as an individual.

  • avatar

    I feel embarassed now. I call my man every lunchtime. But I do make sure I do it away from everyone else when I do it; I wouldn’t want anyone to hear our conversation (mostly because we’re not talking about food, we’re bitching about our colleagues)

    • avatar

      As long as you’re not discussing your dinner, that’s the main thing.

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