Procuring of Lunch Meat: A Three-Act Play.

I avoid the theater of procuring lunch meat at the deli counter at all costs.

And thus, I have never ordered meat at my local Acme's in-store deli before now.

But today I made a meat transaction because I owed a favor to my husband.

And the experience has changed me.

I approached the glass display case with uncertainty and apprehension.

The first obstacle to endure was the jostling at the counter with other patrons due to the lack of a distinct, orderly queue. If only there were directional signs or guiding velvet ropes to help herd these suburban foragers into some semblance of order.

I wondered if I needed a numbered queuing ticket if only two people were waiting? What if additional customers arrived and lied to the deli worker, claiming they arrived before me?

And so, I reached to pull a ticket from that red dispenser thingie, but then drew my hand back, feeling a bit officious.

And so I stood awkwardly ticketless, with nothing to do but size up the other patrons: Is this lady who just called out "a pound of Jarlesburg" butting in front of me, or is she merely continuing an order that she started before I arrived?

We all looked shifty, eager to fight or appease. To stand up for what was ours, without being aggressive. I felt pugnacious and powerless all at the same time.

Finally, the meat slinger made eye contact with me and asked what I wanted.

"Roast beef," I proclaimed, suddenly confident.

But the required specifics of selecting a *type* of roast beef nearly killed me.

"What kind of beef do you want, 'mam?"

I dunno - the kind that comes from a cow?

I froze under choice paralysis after being asked what brand I preferred, and then was subsequently grilled about my rarity preferences.

After clearing those hurdles, I awaited smooth sailing until the conclusion of the transaction.

But no - Mabel, the gruff deli worker, then asked about my thickness and/or thinness preferences while waving a sample slice in my face. "Is this right??"

Dear lort! Can you just cut my damned meat, lady, and we can call it a day?

Does simple deli meat seem so overwhelming and cause such anxiety for anyone else?