t and d share a few key traits:
(a) solving complex puzzles,
(b) being on the spectrum,
(c) eating with their fingers even when utensils are provided.
d and I were two-thirds finished with our individual hot pots. I still had beef slices, a piece of sweet potato, pumpkin, and a milky pot filled with mushy cabbage left.
Sidenote
I was famished, having survived on only a small lunch, zero chocolate breaks, and a full day with the trainee. I had spent hours explaining concepts in the most precise accounting terms I could muster (to an ex-accountant), all without code-switching. My goal was not to leave him hanging with my extended break coming up, especially since he had only been onboarded for less than a month. My boss had assured me he’d be fine. The sense of loss and struggle was quintessential to becoming part of the team, as implied.
However, I had underestimated my appetite and how quickly I would hit a wall. I kept plowing on, fishing out a piece of soft taro, more cabbage, and an egg dumpling. d was eying my meat while steadily cooking his own food—always ensuring a mouthful of leafy greens and mushrooms accompanied every slice of pork. Before long, he was casually shabu-shabu-ing slices straight from my half-full plate of beef.
Across the table, I heard crunching sounds. t had started grabbing raw vegetables straight from his platters, eating them as if they were salads. He was likely feeling the pressure from d, even outside of work.
t: It’s faster to just eat them as is; cooking takes too long.
I’m sure there’s a sign somewhere that reads they aren’t responsible for undercooked foods.
Earlier when waiting to be seated
t: In Germany, you’ll not see pets in restaurants.
Me: I thought it’s more pet-friendly there.
d: Outdoors, yes. He snaps a photo of the Shiba resting underneath the table.
To the left of our table, a middle aged woman was slyly feeding raw chicken to a spaniel with pink ribbons, sitting patiently on the shared long couch I was on too.