The other day at lunch, I had a side of coleslaw with peas and grape halves. I didn't realize until I got back into the training room to eat it that I had mistakenly grabbed a knife instead of a fork when I went through the line. I don't think I thought about getting up off my ass and walking back to the Commons to grab a fork -- not for more than a second, anyway. Instead, I pushed forward, with resolve, determined to try eating the coleslaw anyway because what
did go through my mind was how I was a trailblazer. I was hoping some of the trainees would look over and see me deftly sliding my plastic knife under the pile of green, orange, and purple, raising a bite to my mouth, and smacking my lips satisfyingly at its successful insertion, mastication, and eventual digestion. In my mind, I was Mr. Pitt, eating his candy bar with a knife and fork.