We have a cafeteria in our office. A pleasant young woman works there, and the whole team likes her. She arrives at work at 7:30 AM—sometimes she complains in a friendly way that she didn’t get enough sleep—but she is always cheerful, making sure that early birds like me can enjoy a morning coffee or grab a quick breakfast.
I drink an Americano. She already knows this and, whenever she sees me, she prepares my coffee without needing to ask. Sometimes I buy a cookie, a sandwich, or have salmon with vegetables for breakfast—I believe it’s good for the brain and for health. With my workload, I have no time to cook breakfast at home.
They sell these delicious cookies—big ones, about fifteen centimeters in diameter, probably oatmeal with chocolate chunks. When I eat one, I sometimes feel like Pac-Man.
One morning, I was standing in the cafeteria with my coffee and my cookie when the senior management walked in. They were discussing important matters—bank operations involving massive sums of money. These people were far above me in status and hierarchy, but they were always polite and friendly. They greeted me and sat nearby, continuing their conversation over coffee.
And there I was, sitting close to them, lost in thought, taking slow bites of my cookie, and sipping my morning coffee with an incredibly silly look on my face.
It took me a couple of minutes to realize how ridiculous I must have seemed. Picture this: a guy sitting there, solemnly munching on a giant cookie, crumbs falling onto the table, all while staring blankly into the distance. And all this in the background of a serious discussion about multi-million-dollar deals and high-level strategies.
I suddenly felt like a movie character who had accidentally wandered into the wrong scene—not realizing it was supposed to be a tense drama and not a comedy.
The executives continued their discussion, seemingly paying no attention to me. But I thought I caught one of them glancing in my direction, perhaps noticing my absentminded expression or the almost philosophical seriousness with which I was chewing my oversized cookie.
I finished it, took the last sip of my coffee, and set my cup down. Getting up immediately felt like it would be too obvious—like I had suddenly become self-conscious. So, I just sat there for a moment, pretending to be lost in deep thought.
Eventually, the managers finished their coffee, stood up, and left.
I exhaled in relief, brushed the crumbs off my pants, and went to work.
The key was not to look silly.
Though, perhaps, it was already too late.
