This has been just the pissiest day, and it's only just 2 pm.
For starters, I had to leave for work at 6 a.m. to be at an off-site work location (in another county) by 7 a.m.
This is gonna need some back-story.
(Sorry.)
I was asked to help a co-worker with a 2-day job fair for 8th graders. At the time, I'd just started my new job and didn't have much work to do. I was happy to do have something to do, plus this lady was kind of a supervisor, of sorts, kinda. Mentor, maybe. So I hoped. Until this week, about all I've been assigned to do is make spreadsheets for my mentor. This week, I ran errands for her. Don't get me wrong - I VOLUNTEERED to run the errands, because she was busy and visibly harrassed, and I felt sorry for her, even though I'm feeling more excluded than mentored, but that's another story (I'll spare you that one).
Today was the first day of the job fair. It was supposed to be over by noon.
I left the house early - but not much early - to run by a drive-thru for a biscuit and a large coffee. At the window, I handed the girl my debit card, and she handed me a small coffee. I asked, "Is that a large coffee?" She said, "No, it's a small. Did you want a large?" I said, "Well, I ordered a large." She said, "No problem," and got the coffee, and said, "That'll be [however much it was]," and waited. I said, "You have my card." She looked for it, couldn't find it.
Bitch done lost my card.
And then I got to thinking . . . maybe I HADN'T handed it to her. Checked my wallet, checked the car seat, checked between the car seats, checked my lap. . . .
By this time, chick is panicked, and there's about 4 employees in the drive-thru window, frantically looking for my card (and I'm thinking, Is anybody left back there to make my biscuit?).
Finally, they find it, and give me my biscuit, and I hit the road.
It was about to rain when I got there - a giant warehouse, with bay doors open for the exhibitors to drag in their stuff and wind whipping in. It wasn't so bad, since I was wearing a jeans and jacket and a volunteer t-shirt over a turtle-neck sweater and nice, warm socks. I put down my stuff and got busy showing vendors to their booths, and after a few minutes, my mentor came and said that the caterers had FOUR PEOPLE not show up for work, and asked if I could help them serve breakfast for the vendors. I said sure, and went to help them.
Outside the warehouse was a big tent where the serving tables had been set up, and on the other side of the tent was a food trailer and a u-haul van. In the caterer's crew was the caterer, himself, an old lady (the caterer's 75-year-old mother), another lady with a wretched bad knee and a bad attitude, a black dude in a rain slicker, and a white dude who has ADD (he told me so) and didn't need to be given more than one thing at a time to do (mama told me that).
Bad knee lady was manning the serving table alone. I put on some gloves and started dishing out eggs and bacon while she served biscuits, pancakes, and sausage. After a minute, she nabbed some other volunteer to take her place, and she disappeared. Then the volunteer said she had to be somewhere, and she disappeared. By this time, we were running out of food, with people still trickling in. Bad knee lady was nowhere in sight. I went looking for more food. It was drizzling pretty good.
White dude was in the food trailer making coffee. He wasn't in charge of the cooking; he was in charge of coffee.
I went to the u-haul. It had rained enough that I had to tiptoe through a puddle between the u-haul and the trailer. The caterer was in the van, scrambling eggs on a griddle. He said he needed a pan to put them in, so I waded back to the tent, got a pan, waded back to the van again, waited for the eggs. While I was waiting, black dude came in [I just saw the groundhog walk across my back yard] and when he started slamming some boxes around, a mouse ran out from among them and scampered down the ramp.
Wet ramp. And me with a pan full of hot eggs.
Naw, I didn't slip. That's the one good thing about the day.
I ended up chopping a crate of English cucumbers in the van, shredding dozens of chick thighs, and then the caterer asked me to make slaw. There were supposed to be "at least four" bags of slaw in the refrigerator. There were three. I made the slaw and served it until it was gone, and then I was put to work servicing the salad bar, and when I went back to the trailer for more vegetables, I overheard the bad knee lady telling the white dude that we had run out of slaw because I was serving too much to each person.
By this time, my feet were sloshing in my shoes, and I was cold all over. I didn't bother to tell the woman that we had run out of slaw because they hadn't brought enough. I thought, "Screw you, lady," and headed to the warehouse to get my stuff. I was leaving. Saw my mentor on the way out, and pointed my finger at her and said, "Don't ask me to do this next year."
So I drove home, and when I got here, The Husband's truck was in the driveway. I hurried inside to find out what was wrong, as he should have been at work. He was on the phone when I came in, seemingly in good health. There were towels scattered on the floor outside the bathroom. At my quizzical look, The Husband covered up the mouthpiece and said, "Shitter's full."
A perfect ending for the day.
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