Chor Machaye Shor

Following the dictates of her tongue, mom headed to the company cafeteria around lunchtime to get some ketchup to go with her meal.

As she grabbed a packet of ketchup from a plastic bin by the door and proceeded toward the exit, a loud voice halted her in her tracks.

“Excuse me,” said a busty Latina in a hair net, “you’re gonna have to pay for that.”

“For the ketchup?” asked mom incredulously.

“Uh-huh,” said the woman, placing her hands on her hip. “Anything that leaves this cafeteria … knives, forks, paper napkins, ketchup … has to be paid for,” she said, eyeing the offending packet in mom’s palm.

“I’m sorry,” mumbled mom hurriedly, cursing herself for leaving her purse at her desk and not being able to fling some change in the woman's face.

“You can buy something and I’ll throw the ketchup in,” the woman offered magnanimously.

“Oh, no, thanks, that’s all right,” said mom, red-facedly wondering if Winona Ryder had felt the same emotions coursing through her when she was caught shoplifting.

As she proceeded to drop the dressing back into the plastic bin, the woman seemed to soften a little and said, “I’ll let you go this time because I know you’re new here.”

Puffing up with pride and indignation and making a mental note to fire the lady as soon as she became CEO, mom refused and beat a hasty retreat toward the door.

“No, no, take it this time,” insisted the woman, thrusting the ketchup back in her hands.

"No, thank you," insisted mom, throwing the packet back in the bin.

"No, no, it's all right," insisted the woman.

"No, really," countered mom.

By now the entire company was watching mom and the hair net lady toss the invidious ketchup packet back and forth. Finally, before one of the vice presidents present stepped in to pay for the condiment and mortify her further, mom accepted the ketchup graciously and headed back to her desk, only to throw the unopened packet in the trashcan.

Thayir sadam, she concluded wolfing down her bland lunch, needs no accompaniment.