Do You Believe in Life After Lunch?
Dreams of camaraderie, corporate realities
By Kitty
From the moment you pose for that first-day-of-school photo, people start asking, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” You’ll likely answer something like, “Unicorn!”—your naivety protecting you from the weight the question holds. As you age, the inquiry shape shifts. “Where do you see yourself after graduation?” “What’s your five-year plan?” The narrative that develops is one that says life begins when you start your career.
When I was sold this story, I believed it. I imagined the day I’d march my pencil skirt and stilettos into a dream job and laugh over lunches with my coworkers-turned-friends—the kind who notice the subtle shifts in your mood and mean it when they ask, "what's up?". I wasn’t exactly looking for bridesmaids, but thought for sure there’d be happy hours or a pal to hit the beach with during the summer. My very first college internship gave me a glimmer of hope.
For six months I worked full-time in the internal audit department at the headquarters of a regional bank. The building housed a convenience store and cafeteria, and was located directly opposite a Shaw’s supermarket. On days we weren’t dining at local pubs so that my boss could find the city’s best meatloaf, we were washing down our on-site buffalo chicken wraps with convenience store iced coffees and following it up with a just-because sheet cake that someone had walked across the street to procure. When it came to lunchtime, there was no auditor left behind. My stint there felt fulfilling. Camaraderie tasted sweet.
The following year, I landed a co-op position in a tax firm where I had my own office (aka repurposed book closet). The fever dream that was my first foray into corporate culture evaporated under the cold fluorescent lights of public accounting. I worked on the fifth floor of a building in the financial district, who’s uninviting break room boasted a community refrigerator and plastic dining chairs—ones I avoided sitting on because my polyester suiting almost guaranteed that I’d leave a steamy sweat streak where my ass had been planted. Most of the khaki-clad staff would leave during their lunch hour to ruminate on Red Sox stats and eat at now-defunct fast-casual cafes like Souper Salad or Cosi. I knew they’d be harder to crack than my old coworkers, but I gave it a shot. During my first week on the job I’d head to the break room at noon to ask if anyone wanted to fetch a sandwich, only to find out the group had left without me. This became the norm.
The chilliness of my fellow accountants forced me to fly solo on lunch missions. Sometimes I’d pass them on the sidewalk, and they wouldn’t acknowledge my presence. It was a few blocks over that I discovered my preferred turkey sandwich at a restaurant called Rebecca’s Cafe. A stack of smoked turkey with cheddar, thinly-sliced apples, and honey mustard was served on whole-grain toast. The space was painted a warm yellow hue and was decorated with just enough rustic, sunflower-adorned accent pieces to make you forget for a moment that you’d sold your soul to the man.
When I accepted a full-time job after college, I transitioned to an office in the suburbs. It had a gated driveway, a sprawling lawn, and an onsite cafeteria where people raved about the prices. Where else could you get a cheeseburger for $3.95? The lack of alternate dining options in the area meant that I would once again be joining a cafeteria table with my colleagues. They were a tenured crowd who had formed almost familial bonds. The sense of permanence this position held left me struggling with how much of my personal life to share. Most of the time I hoped someone would bring up their pet so I could tell them how much my cat Lloyd loved the taste of coffee. The age gap between us was especially apparent when I’d order chicken tenders and french fries just to feel something and they commented on how good it must feel to “be bad”.
For a years-long stretch, I’d arrive at the office at 7:00 am, iced latte in hand. I’d let my stomach growl until 1:00 pm, stretch my 45-minute lunch break until close to 2:00, and be revving my engine, eager to peel out of the parking lot by 3:00. I knew better than to schedule any meetings during my last hour on the clock since my preferred cafeteria offering was a black bean veggie burger on a white bulkie roll, with chipotle mayonnaise and a side of kettle cooked chips. This meal sounds risky, but ultimately, the effects of corporate lunch on my gut were the same regardless of whether I was eating from the salad bar or the grill.
I began to realize that lunch had become the light at the end of the tunnel, rather than the beacon of hope for social satiety. The last bite was a taste of freedom—it was almost time to go home. The community I thought I’d find when life began wasn’t right beyond my cubicle wall. To be honest, it wasn’t even down the block from the break room.
As a thirty-something who has now shifted my career path and settled into eating at my desk alone, I’ve learned to listen to what my gut is trying to tell me. Is it hungry for the prospect of connection, or is it telling me to hurry the fuck up and evacuate? These days mine whispers, “A turkey club will tide you over until 4:00.” Corporate lunch is the fuel that fires my evenings—my real life filled with slow dinners catching up with friends, moving my body in my favorite workout class, and dreaming up craft projects for the fun of it. Best of all, I decide who joins me at the table.
A special thank you to this week’s illustrator, Valentina Berdegué1. See more of her work here.
Valentina Berdegué Saenz is a Mexican illustrator and a 2024 BFA Illustration graduate from the School of Visual Arts.
Valentina’s illustrations are vibrant and feminine, blending manual techniques with digital processes before being printed on a risograph printer. Drawing inspiration from women and the beauty in the everyday, she often captures people in moments of solitude and introspection. By observing everyday moments, Valentina intertwines them with the subconscious, inviting viewers to see the world in a fresh, thought-provoking light.
She is a Society of Illustrators West 62 Winner, a 3x3 Annual 21 Merit Winner, and received a shortlist special mention at the 2025 Le Book Emerging Talent Awards. She has also been featured in Canvas Rebel, Shoutout LA, and Bold Journey.