I was at work from 7am-10pm yesterday, and here I am, near 9pm, and writing a blog post before I go home, because I know I'll be too tired to do it when I get home.
It wasn't so much a rule as an unwritten standard operating procedure, but we don't eat when we work. Specifically, Timmy would stop for lunch under any of three conditions: 1) our customer offered to give us lunch (because turning them down would be rude), 2) we were done working, or 3) one of us (never him) got hungry enough to ask "can we take a break to eat?"
If anyone wanted to eat, he was always okay with it, and would always eat with us and everything - it just wasn't a thought that would ever have occurred to him while working otherwise.
To this day, I have coffee in the morning and generally don't eat until dinner. In fact, when I'm not fighting to keep up with work and my dissertation at the same time, my lunch hour is usually spent at the gym (as is the hour directly following work). I usually get home around 7, and eat some massive meal around 8. This system is suboptimal, but I've researched the medical journals and its not actually unhealthy (despite a lot of popular and media opinion to the contrary).
Generally, I'm thankful for Tim for helping me acclimate to a lifestyle that allows me to run in the morning, workout at lunch and after work, and stuff my face at the end of the day. But today... today I bring all this up because, if I'm at work until 9 or 10, and don't get home until 10 or 11, this system seriously stinks.
I'm also writing because I realize that so much of who I am and what I do, down to my work ethic and eating habits - they're all given to me by Timmy. He's here with me now, and probably didn't realize if he was hungry until he saw that I was.