Did someone say “lunch?”

Because my weekly consulting schedule takes me to three different clients, I only get to my employer's office every four to six weeks. The only downfall of this arrangement, so far, has been the fact that I am not well acquainted with the microwave oven in my employer's office.

Last week, my unfamiliarity caused me to cook a Lean Cuisine entree beyond all recognition. Oh sure, my colleagues have warned me that "it cooks fast," but I dutifully set it to cook for eight minutes at 50 percent power, per the package instructions. Yet when I removed it and had allowed it to cool, I discovered my potentially healthy, low-calorie lunch had been transformed into an inedible brick. The enchilada's corn tortilla was not to be bitten through. The sauce had melted and resolidified into a brown mass that had adhered to the black plastic tray. The rice came out of its partition in one crispy chunk.

So much for being thrifty, healthy, efficient and warm. I put on my coat and trudged across the parking lot to the deli in the adjacent office building and dropped eight bucks on the turkey club special (on white, toasted, includes pickle and potato chips).

This got me thinking about office lunches in general and the different options available for mid-day consumption. Do you see yourself in any of these descriptions?

Frozen Entree Franny. When they came out, Lean Cuisine and Healthy Choice transformed workaday lunches. They are the perfect size for transporting in a briefcase. The only pitfall (besides overcooking – see above) is that if you don't mark yours, you may forget what you brought when you open the office freezer and are confronted with 15-20 similar entrees contained therein.  Last August, I failed to mark my Tortilla Crusted Fish Lean Cuisine. At lunchtime, I pulled out the Chicken Enchilada Lean Cuisine (because it's one I often eat) and had removed the tear strip at the end before I realized THAT'S NOT WHAT I BROUGHT! I left a note of apology and returned it to the freezer. It's still there.

Leftover Larry. Soup Husband Curt takes great pride in not spending one nickel for his daily lunch. His eye twitches when he is forced to buy a Diet Coke. So, God bless him, he happily takes for lunch tomorrow whatever we had for dinner tonight. He'll eat the same thing for three days in a row. I'm trained to make enough dinner to feed our family plus an extra lunch or two.  I'm not opposed to leftovers, but they would be harder to transport in a briefcase on the Metro than a frozen entree.

Vulturous Victor. If you work in an office where guests are occasionally hosted for mid-day meetings, you know there's an art to sniffing out the leftovers and positioning yourself for first dibs, even before you receive the "help yourself to leftovers in the kitchen" email. If you're lucky enough to be the one who's entrusted with ordering said lunches, you will wisely tack on an extra serving (or two) and snag yours before you send that all-staff email. Just sayin'.

Brown Bag Brad.  Ham or turkey sandwich. Carrot or celery sticks. Apple or orange.  Yogurt or pudding. Potato chips or pretzels. Every. Single. Day.

Ten Thirty Tammy.  She wants to go for takeout and is looking for company. I worked with a woman who would, without fail, show up at my desk at 10:30 a.m. each day and say, "Did you bring your lunch?" I understood this was code for, "Can I talk you into going out with me?" My arm usually requires very little twisting; I love lunch out. We would hit the Italian buffet, the Roy Rogers for "hangover helper" burgers and fries, the Chinese takout that was next to McDonalds, the hole in the wall Mexican joint (still one of my favorites), and the carryout around the corner. Occasionally, lacking sufficient motivation to leave the office, we would actually eat whatever lunch we brought with us that day. Or the one we neglected the day before.

You're buying? I'm there! In one of my past lives, I was in charge of procuring temporary staff for the office. There was no exclusive agency – we used several – and enough volume to make ours a very attractive prospective account. I had lunch with I don't know how many account managers, all of whom treated me to really nice sit-down lunches at steak houses, American fare places (with the extra-large entrees), and the like. I used to half-joke, "I'm a slut for a free lunch." Hey, don't judge; it was business. I made them no promises.

The three martini lunch. I think this might be passe, but then I work in the capital of the free world, so chances are, it's alive and well in parts of the city. But really – does anyone even do this anymore? I'd pass out at my desk for the afternoon if I had so much as one beer in the middle of the day, let alone three martinis!