"No Free Lunch"

I was called this weekend by Jennifer of the Sister-Cities program; who kinda runs program here in the Salt Lake area. A weekend call, which was rare and on my cell phone, to advise me there was a group of Russian in town and could I make the Monday luncheon for them at the local Buca di Peppo. I gave the event a seconds thought and told her I would be there. Attending meetings, its what I don especially if the meetings held at a restaurant.

Jennifer had informed me, when she proffered the invitation that the folks I would be meeting with would be some representatives of the Ministry of Education, more specifically special education.

While not a free lunch—is there a free lunch—the lunch was a distraction, something to get me away from the office and a possibility the start of something big Buca di Peppo, I was not to sure about though. I had stopped in at this place right after it had opened. Di Peppo describes itself as family dining which means. To me, a convenient way of over pricing. When I to this place the first time, I ended up rolling out in frustration because I could not figure out their whole system from ordering to payment. I still have not figured the system out-we were saved by the participants at the lunch could not figure it out either and opted to order individually.

There were five Russian visitors who were accompanied two State department interpreters—which is always weird—the two special ed ministers, a principal and two others who were pretty fuzzy as to what they did—one kept quiet and smiled a lot and he other a dark complected, large in stature sat at the end of the table and made call after call on his cell phone. Communicating via interpreter is always challenging. We did introductions and I had to give a small presentation about who I was and what I did for the State. Luckily the questions to me were few. The two educators sat directly in front of me and seemed detached from the proceedings, one seemed to be glaring a lot of the time—I think if Jennifer had been closer to me she would have been kicking me under the table to converse more then I seemed to be doing, I asked a few questions, answered a few and made a coupe of points and figured I had done my bit. In fact I figured I had gone over my quota for an over priced lunch I was paying for myself.

I got out of there restaurant for about $13.00 not bad I guess, the added their own tip and did not offer to package my leftover spaghetti—which was just as well. I did my duty and paid for my lunch and smiled a lot; would I do it again, probably. I got to mingle with folks far different from me, I got to try my poor Russian and that was fun but most of all I garnered another experience somewhat unbelievable but true, and best of all time away from the office.