One of my favorite bloggers, Wendi Aarons said in a recent post that anyone who could make her work a double shift at the little league stand would become an immediate enemy. When I read that sentence I shuddered and then passed out.
You see my friends, there is no worse fate than working in a little league concession stand. And two shifts? That’s down right criminal.
The league that Ben is in gives you an option. It’s either pay $400 or work for an hour in the stand. Yes. Really.
This year, in order to get my time served out of the way, I signed up for the first game of the season in May.
Only that game was postponed to June.
And that game in June game was rained out and rescheduled to July 10th. The last game of the season.
So last Saturday I reported to my post with enthusiasm and zest. I had done this gig before and it wasn’t that bad.
Clearly working in the concession stand is like giving birth. You quickly forget the pain.
Not to mention when I worked last year, it wasn’t during playoffs and there weren’t easily 300 some people at the park. All hungry during the dinner hour.
The minute I stepped into my cell, I realized this 4×4 room was a balmy 180 degrees. Of course there was a lovely breeze outside but in our hut it was tropical.
There is no cash register (sorta like a grown-up lemonade stand) so you have to do all the math in your head. Have I ever told you how I barely passed math in high school and therefore took a math course in college as pass/fail? Yeah, you see where this is going.
I don’t do math. Oh sure there is a little calculator in the stand but that’s just for THOSE kind of people and I’d be damned if I would be one of those. I failed math in college. That was enough humiliation for a life time.
My first customer was maybe five years old with his little head barely making it to the counter.
“S’cuse me. Um how much is ith queem?”
“What kind honey? Well we have lots of kinds of ice cream. There is the sandwich which is $.75, there is the Choco Taco which is $1.00…”
“Dat one! How much is dat one?”
“Which one?”
“Dat one!”
“Which one?”
“Dat one!! Ova dere!”
“I have no idea where you are pointing! This one!?”
“Mooom!!!” and he ran off.
Shortly after I scared off Wilber, I had the couple who seemed like they were ordering for the entire park. Or maybe they saved all their daily calories for the West Madison Little League cuisine. Or perhaps they were taking out their own previous Little League Stand Sweat Shop time on me!
“We’ll have 3 hot dogs, 2 waters, 2 Diet Cokes, 1 lemonade, 2 cookies, 3 chips, 2 chicken sandwiches, 1 Slush Puppy and a popcorn.”
*Blink blink blink*
“Um, what was after the 2 hot dogs?”
Then there was my friend the size zero 16 year old girl who had to correct me on my change. “Hi, sorry but I think you owe me another dollar. See, I gave you a $5 and it was $3.50 and you only gave me $.50.”
“Yeah well Jimmy really doesn’t like you and when you sit down your stomach looks fat.”
By the time my kid came up after his game, HIS LAST GAME OF THE SEASON THAT I MISSED BECAUSE I WAS STUCK IN THE SWEAT BOX, I was so hot and so hungry shaky that when he knew exactly what he wanted, “Hi MOM! I’ll have a Snickers and a cherry Airhead. That equals $2.” I cried.
And then promptly said to my fellow sucker worker, “That’s my shift! BYE!” as I ran for the hills. Without looking back.
Next year, $400 isn’t looking too bad. Who needs cable and food when I could spare myself 90 minutes of hell?
