How does a fifty-ish woman with the usual (and in some instances MORE than usual)amount of gray hair, wrinkles, and extra poundage accrued over time get teenage and early twenty-something boys to come running when she walks into a room? Easy. Bring food.
My husband's business supplies lunch for all the employees, and I am the designated pantry-stocker. As such, when the supplies run low, I make a food run. Invariably, I am greeted by several boys and some men more than willing to help me unload bags from the car. I suffer no false illusions as to why they come running; I know what makes them pop up from various places around the office like so many prairie dogs on the, well, prairie. Still and all, it's nice to be greeted warmly whenever I arrive, even if it's only for the pizza, cookies, deli meat, cheese, soft drinks and other goodies that accompany me. I shudder to think what would happen if I ever showed up empty handed...
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