Beware the Lunch Thief

Issue 5, Semester 2, 2019

ANNA SARTORI

 In the thick of the clerkship process, there are few joys in life. Nonetheless, I thought I had found one: pasta. Last week, I crafted the most beautiful lunch to take to university. As you may infer from my name, my ancestry is Italian. I don’t mess around when it comes to pasta. This was a creamy tagliatelle with sautéed mushrooms and generous spoonfuls of my Nonna’s homemade pesto stirred through. Sitting in Corporations Law while Helen warned us of the shortcomings of corporate governance, I keenly waited for the clock to tick to 12:55pm, when I could escape room 109 and consume my delicious gourmet meal.

​The moment never came. ​

Image: McDonalds - sourced from DigiDay https://bit.ly/2NAR6ta

I opened the fridge. My lunch bag wasn’t there. Perhaps it was in the fridge on the right? No — no luck there either. Someone must have moved it to another shelf. I began rummaging through the fridge, removing a rainbow of Pyrex containers as I did so. Nothing. In a moment of desperation, I checked the freezer. Of course, it wasn’t there. My pasta was definitely, absolutely gone. This was no accident or innocent mistake. A lunch thief stalks the hallowed halls of Melbourne Law School.

In vain, I looked through the fridge one last time. Then I spied it. Not my pasta — no, of course not, that was truly lost — but the container I had brought it in, empty and washed.

I pulled it out and inspected it. Though a generic ex-takeaway container, it was definitely mine. Due to a poor and apparently hasty washing attempt (perhaps done in a hurry, lest the thief be caught in the act), small flecks of basil remained. I was bewildered. Why put the container back in the fridge? The space in those fridges is limited and should not be wasted on the chilling of empty plastic containers. Why not leave it on the bench, or simply chuck it out?

The answer became clear: the thief wanted me to see the empty container. He or she sought to leave me a message. It was, I believe, meant to convey something to the effect of, ‘I’m sorry I ate your pasta, but here’s your container back?’

Needless to say, this did not suffice as an apology. Fuming, I trudged down to Porta Via to order a $10.50 sandwich of dubious quality. All MLS students ought heed my warning: beware the lunch thief who roams the level one kitchen. 

Anna is a Second Year JD Student.