He'd had sushi delivered from some swanky catering place. My stomach had been growling all morning, and I wondered if our "friends" provision would cover me snatching and eating his entire lunch. At quarter to noon, he'd dumped a huge stack of letters on my desk and said, "I really need these to go out today. Could you possibly take a later lunch and get them done now?" "Not a problem," I had assured him. Inwardly, I'd thought some very uncharitable things about my boss. When he summoned me in after the delivery guy had painstakingly unpacked and plated his lunch, I realized why he'd delayed me. His entire desk was cleared off, and he sat in his high-backed black chair, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, no tie as usual. A feast of sushi rolls and sashimi, more than one person could reasonably eat, had been laid in delicate dishes on the top of the desk. My mouth watered. I tried to convince myself it was because Neil looked so good today - he totally did - but it was mostly to do with the food.
