The whiff of vegetable broth incites nausea as I lower my nose to peer into the bowl. I love the lite vegetable, don’t get me wrong, but after four weeks, the admiration has dissipated into a somber stare that stings my eyes with tears.
This soup is akin to a boyfriend that you know you should break up with, but he’s best friends with your dad or at least thinks he is.
My dad was a teacher at my high school, so all of the guys would say, “Hey Mr. Anderson!” and then acknowledge that I, too, was in the room. Not only did I hold the weight of ending my relationship when talking with a guy, but I also had to consider the ruining of the budding friendship between him and my father. They easily would have dated my father instead of me.
The same goes for the Bistro. I know the facility loves the lite vegetable soup, but it’s too much. It’s time to go our separate ways and move on from this repeated side option. It’s not you; it’s me.
That is how I feel about the Bistro’s vegetable soup. It’s the annoying boyfriend that follows you up to the microwave every day when all you were trying to do was heat your leftover Chinese food, not cheat on him (all I did was ask the guy if he was done with the microwave). The lite vegetable soup is the boyfriend that makes you sigh in frustration when you see him enter the room, and with his presence, it makes you remember that he is your boyfriend.
It is the high school boyfriend that prompts you to say, “I’d rather die,” when your mother says you should invite him over tonight. You liked him at first, but again, after four weeks, the admiration dissipates. As you can see, I’m in a tough situation with voicing my concern. I have multiple parties to look out for.
I love the Bistro and have nothing bad to say about it. We know this. Bistro worker, Jackson, thank you for punching my order in and yelling “VEGGIE HUMMUS PIZZA!” to the back before I open my mouth. It is nice to see that my lunch choice monotony does not go unnoticed.
I am terribly parochial when it comes to entrees, so I need a wider variety of sides. Whatever happened to chicken and wild rice soup? That was, without a doubt, what humanity’s providential timeline worked its way up to achieve. There are no anthropological betterments that equate to the healing power of the chicken and wild rice soup. What about Tomato Bisque? Tomato Florentine? Chicken noodle?
Those soups are stellar. Mix in the lite vegetable (occasionally), and you will have the most powerful and efficient starting lineup imaginable. If the lite vegetable soup is the side dishes’ point guard, the coach eventually has to take him out of the game and not just during the bistro-called, weekend-30-second timeout.
Please, pick any other soup for next week, preferably one of the myriad options above. I cannot keep calculatingly avoiding the corn in the vegetable soup week after week. However, it does improve my concentration and discipline and allows me to work through modes of frustration that I have yet to encounter.
Bistro, my love, please do not take this article as scolding or exposing. I am simply here to be the voice of the people, more specifically, my friend group.
