12/31/25 soup

My manager describes the meal she’s about to have: tomato soup and fries, from the restaurant upstairs at our store. My co-worker and I, on hearing this, are instantly persuaded that this is the best meal we’ve ever heard of, ever, in our whole lives, and that we’re going to go up there, to the restaurant on the fifth floor, and order that exact meal, which would probably be kind of confusing for them; three random people, presumably, to the waitstaff, strangers, about one hour apart, ordering the exact same meal.

After my manger comes back from her meal, my co-worker goes for her lunch, only to text us a few minutes later to say that the restaurant ran out of tomato soup. “Brutal,” I text back, while figuring out my next move and where I might be able to source tomato soup.