Free, at last!

I haven't had a nice dinner in a while. I haven't been treated to a nice dinner even longer than that. However, last night I got a two-fer: filet mignon and calamari steak dinner, complete with fried rice and orange sherbert dessert. Now, what I had to endure to enjoy the evening:

A long, arduous day driving to a client's office to set up a new computer. An old man, one you'd want to call 'grandpa' right off the bat for his good demeanor. I mean, he was a 'Gilbert.' How could you not want to help the guy out? Oh yeah, and he was deaf. Not 'hard of hearing' deaf, but "my left ear sits here for decoration" deaf. Ok, a challenge.

I set up his webcam so he could video chat with his niece, enlarged his icons and text so his tired old eyes would know where to look when he wanted to check his email, and declined an invite to lunch so I could expense one of my own on the company.

Client 2: Mr. "Bleeding edge technology, watch me install Office 2007 and lose all compatibility with synchronization plugins." Yes, let's adopt software that's only a few months old and that other developers are trying to keep up with. You, sir, are a beta tester. We call these ID10T errors...

Colleague calls to offer me dinner for my patience in dealing with Client 2. I accept, and sit at a nice table sandwiched between the two wives on my left and my colleague and his buddy on the right. To my left, I hear the words 'Braxton contractions' and 'depo shot.' To my right, I hear: "Can you believe that dumbass had to sell his Lambo because the sub-prime market tanked?"
I decided to disable one of my five senses. Fortunately, it is only the remaining four that come in handy at dinner time.

The chef, 'Dimitrios,' Mexican - it is customary of Kyoto Palace employees to assign themselves names mismatched with their real ethnicity - made the best fried rice I had ever had, but each item was cooked sequentially, so as I am listening to the science of birth control cycling and current trends in the loan industry I can only focus on the calamari steak bubbling from its own moisture and the sexy, marbelized filet mignon being seasoned to my liking.

I did enjoy every bite. I made sure each piece of meat had garlic butter on it and each grain of rice stuck between my teeth so my gums could siphon off the flavor before it was properly digested. Granted, that much sodium and fat could make asbestos taste like a French pastry, but I knew what I was eating. And I knew it was free.