“What is the concept of your food truck?” My best friend asked.
“Happiness.” I replied succinctly.
My mother cleared her throat.
“Bigger question my dear Tom is if you can cook? In the thirty years since I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you near a kitchen.”
I looked at my mom, as usual she had a point and as usual, I decided to ignore it. But again, as per norm, my dad decided to intervene.
“I’ve had his cooking, my dear, and it was a cardboard toast alongside water flavoured with coffee which he had somehow managed to burn.”
I saw my girlfriend nodding at him.
“You guys are not being supportive. I have this great idea and you just want to nitpick.”
“Tom, mate, how can you open a food truck without knowing how to cook, be reasonable.” My stupid best friend said.
“Eh? Cooking is easy you just put stuff on a gas and wait.”
My dad shook his head "Who gave him a job at NASA?" he whispered to my mother.
"You're a good engineer but this is not your forte, you can't just start something because you like it. You also need aptitude for it." It was mom again with a valid point."
"During Covid I really got into food and now this is my passion, I'm not going to do something just because I'm good at it. I'm going to do something I love."
Covid has infected people in more ways than one." My best friend muttered.
Throwing him a nasty look, I walked away before any of them could object.
1 year later
I put a dish of fried chicken in front of my girlfriend and smiled.
"Here you go, I've put secret spices on it, elevating it from the run-of-the-mill Fried Chicken."
She looked at me and shook her head vigorously.
"Tom, please don't make me eat this, I don't want to end up in the hospital again."
"I'm sorry about that time, I have no idea how the chicken remained undercooked. But I've learnt from my mistakes and this is so much better. I wanted to experiment before I serve it in the truck."
She played with ring on her finger and looked at the fried chicken.
"I'm sorry I can't be your guinea pig anymore, why are you still obsessed with the truck? You're in losses and the food is not great. You should just stick to engineering. I'm getting tired of this, choose one or the other. Me or the truck?"
3 months later
There was a long line near the food truck.
I looked at the owner and sighed. He'd bought my old truck for a song and was booming near my office.
Life has good taunts, doesn't it? I went back to my desk and was drawing the recycle bin for a rocket when my boss came up to me.
"Tom, I have another project for you! I believe you'll like this. We want you to design a food warming galley oven for the next spacecraft."
I smiled wryly and made a rough sketch and suddenly sat up straight before drawing zealously.
"Family and friends, I'm opening another food truck."
Amidst the collective groans from them, I passed out samples.
"This is actually good."
"You didn't make this, did you?"
"You ordered this from some place, right?"
I held up my hand "No I made this or rather my friend- The fat frier."
I unveiled the mechanical robot I'd spent months making instead of the project my boss had asked to create.
"I believe I can fry!" I said triumphantly to the naysayers.
