I took a new job recently (one month and one week ago to be exact). Now I'm a tier 1 service desk analyst at CompuCom Systems, an outsourcing IT company headquartered in Dallas (although I work in one of its Mexico City sites), which means that I give technical support to other companies, in my case to a human resources company specialized in payroll, with worldwide presence.
I think it's a good opportunity for several reasons. I like physical technologies and enjoy manipulating electronic devices, from just using and exploring, to fixing. Yes, I lack a lot of technical knowledge, but I find beautiful to learn about it, specially if they reward me with expensive certificates that can be useful in future jobs. I spend most of my life in front of a computer or an smartphone, and I can't get tired of it. Also, the pay is pretty decent and, so far, I have a weird but nice schedule.
As a friend said it, my schedule is kind of Australian, a country where the working week is 38-hours long and more than 2 days off are common, compensated by longer workdays during the working week. Well, I rest from Wednesday to Friday, and my longer workdays are throughout the weekends, with regular time on Monday and Tuesday, except for the part that those days I'm on the after hours shift.
So, sometimes I work in the day, others in the night; and some days I work more hours than others. The problem is that my routine has become completely maladjusted. I no longer know when, where and what to eat. It appears to me that I must cook my own food and carry it to work, something that I've never liked not only because of the effort, but also because food is never fresh.
As a result of this maladjustment, I'm eating an incredible amount of crap and I'm starting to feel bad. Trying to solve this issue, I found myself reading the book Fitness for Geeks (Perry, 2012), where I found this curious quote that I'm still attempting to catch.
I like Boston Marathon winner Jack Fultz’s “see food” diet—“see food and eat it”—for its simplicity. Eating in the modern world is anything but simple these days. The act of eating has been completely medicalized, and has become sociopolitically militant to boot. The vegans are hurling pies (nondairy, of course) at the meat eaters, the vegetarians are aiming online flames at the omnivores, and the raw foodists are, well, refusing to cook anything.
The trap seems to be in the word "food" that mostly refers to real non-processed-junk food (like the Cheetos Puffs I ate on my Tuesday's lunch hour). So the problem remains the same: the availability of real food.