For those of you that don't know I am the Snack Bar Czar for our local little league,
you do now.
Yes... I had a brain fart and raised my hand when someone asked who was going to take
on the Snack Shack for this year.
I chalk it up to insanity. Pure and simple.
Can I tell you how many times I have been to Smart N Final this week?
Five, 5, cinque, cinco.
I NOW HATE SMART N FINAL.
No.. I don't.
But I have definitely been there too much when I start walking down the aisles and
saying hello to the workers by NAME!!!
One asked me if I was looking for an application to work there, since I had purchased everything else in the store.
If I never see another batch of NACHOS, it will be too soon.
I'm only feeling sorry for myself because I worked the entire week there,
by choice, so I would know what I do and don't want to happen in there.
I haven't been to popular with some Mommies at the park this week.
They want their little darling daughters to work in MY snack bar, just because.
My Snack Bar... my choice... nuff said.
It has been fun. I'm just kidding about hating it. (no I'm not).
This week has been eye opening in so many ways.
People are funny.
I am sarcastic.
Sometimes the mix doesn't quite gel, and some interesting circumstances arise.
Case in point...
Woman returns a $1.50 hot dog because a gnat was on it.
Her exact words "Ummmm... this hotdog has a gross gnat on it... and we can't eat it... it's gross, can you get me another one? ugh... it's soooo gross... I can't believe it's the first day of baseball and there is already a gnat on my hotdog."
My retort..."Ummmm... okay... I'm not gonna argue with you ... we'll make you another gourmet, out of the ferris wheel deal, HAUTE DAWG, and we'll see if it meets your high standards... ma'am. Oh, and by the way... you do realize YOU ARE EATING IT OUTSIDE... WHERE GNATS ARE FLYING AROUND BY THE ZILLIONS?"
Because she knows me... she just laughs and says I'm silly.
I go to sleep that night picturing her head in a deep fryer.
It's 10 minutes into the VERY FIRST DAY OF BASEBALL and a guy buys 25 cents worth of licorice and hands me A FIFTY DOLLAR BILL!
My reaction? What did I say?
"Dude... not even McDonalds takes bills over $20... WE ARE A LITTLE LEAGUE SNACK BAR!
He got free licorice.
I think he planned it that way.
He's in the deep fryer too.
Woman ordered a crap load of food, and tries to hand me to her DEBIT CARD!
I walk outside to make sure I wasn't really working at an ATM MACHINE!
A debit card?
What I wanted to say to her was... Yeah... bend over lady, and I'll see if your credit reader works... but I didn't... I just politely (for me) told her we didn't take DEBIT CARDS AT A FREAKING SNACK BAR!
Yeah. She walked the plank into the grease too.
The piece de resistance was last night... when an irrate MUTHA, got all up in my grill
about my not allowing her RUDE, CRUDE, FOUL MOUTHED, SKANKY cousin to work
in the Snack Bar for her for Snack Bar duty all parents have to do at least once.
I have already hired my people.
I don't want just anyone working the Shack... ya know?
The cousin proceeded to call me a B*&^%! RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!
The Mom got all mad because she already paid the cousin...
"Uh... really, you call your prospective employer for the evening a B*((&^ and you expect me to
just open the door for you and let you spread your cheer all over my smooth flowing
Snack Shack?" PULEEEEEZE!
She walked her skanky butt back to the game that was playing.
HER SON IS ON MY SONS TEAM!!!
WE sure know how to draft 'em!
The son is actually a great kid... and and great player...
That Mama... no likey me.
Ask me if I care!
Baseball brings out the worst in people.
The next 9 weeks are gonna be SO. MUCH. FUN!
I hope by the end of it... I don't end up on the evening news... all wild eyed and messy haired, hiding behind my service window... saying things like..
"Shhhh... don't tell them I'm here... they'll just order more food, and my people haven't landed from Zork yet... shhhhh." All the while, throwing marshmallows at little kids walking by just to play baseball.
Nah... It'll be okay.
I can do anything for 9 weeks.
Then...I'm firing myself, Trump style.