North Sea in Summer 78. I don’t know why I’m putting this photo with this post.
Back in the eighties I had a job in Hollywood at a film camera rental place. Every morning, I think at about 10am, a food truck would come.
Maria, the receptionist, would announce the arrival of the truck but for some reason, the big boss didn’t want her to make the broadcast over the system intercom. She had to go to each individual extension.
My desk was near hers and every morning I’d get to hear it. Maria was (is?) an actress and she’d have to say it about 30 times often with great enthusiasm:
The truck is here.
THE TRUCK IS HERE.
The TRUCK is here.
The truck IS here.
The truck IS HEEEEE-RRRREEEEE.
And so forth. I’ve been out of touch with her for eons but if I had her phone number I’d call her right now and holler: The truck is here.
The truck food was pretty good. One of my favorites was the quesadilla which had a cilantro-y salsa folded inside and was the perfect combination of outer crunch and inside melty cheese. I don’t think I ate any other food from the truck.
What a nice memory. When I worked at the Educational Testing Service, there was an executive office across from my cube that had a glass door. I could see the reflection of the window in it if I tilted it the right way. And that was my excitement for the day, every day…
Now I'm hungry and there's no food truck in sight.
I wish we had a food truck.
Years ago I interned for a company that was the publisher of a number of magazines. It's since been bought up by Time, Inc., which has nothing to do with anything except I wonder if they still have Fruit of the Day. As an intern it was my job to take the basket from the break room and go fill it with the fruit of the day. All sounds very wholesome, doesn't it?
On Fridays there were packets of granola with M&Ms. Everyone loved Fridays.