Cooties

I got an email yesterday reminding us that it was once again that time of year to cough up loads of cash and be snappy about it. Oh and a smile on your face would be appreciated, but not required.

NO...it wasn't from the IRS

It was really about signing the kids up for swim team, but isin't my way of saying it much more accurate?

thought so

And along with the email were attachments. Always attachments. Because it isin't painful enough to drain you of your cash, that could be spent on much more interesting things like say....a pedicure.

NO, we must make you fill out three forms in triplicate SWEARING

1)NOT to sue the swim team. Even if they do stupid stuff like feeding your kids moldy doughnuts (Kidding that really didn't happen. I'm just thinking off the top of my head here)

2) That your kids are their stated age because heaven knows we are all about trying to pass off an 11 year old as an 8 year old

3)To show up for our volunteer positions (per the attached)

You were starting to wonder what all this has to do with cooties weren't you? Yeah I know....It just takes me awhile to get to the point.

So anyway on attachment #3 was the list of who was doing what job, at what meet

And yours truly was on the list for things like timer and ribbons, etc.

But NEVER working the "concessions"

HEE

There is a reason for this.

Many moons ago, I worked concessions ONCE. A thankless job along the lines of working the line at Mickey D's. You get just as hot and greasy and tired, but at least we don't have to wear a uniform.

And one of the tantalizing and mouth watering items we have available on the menu is once hot, but now cold pizza from Domino's in two delish varieties, cheese and pepperoni.

As is typically the case, we always run out of cheese first. I don't care how many cheese we order. We still run out. It's karma or kismet or the natural order of the food universe. Or the fact that we have 200 kids congregated in one area. Take your pick.

So I am down to pepperoni pizza and a hot vat of yellow goop with chips, otherwise know as "Cheese Nachos!!!" as our protein offerings.

A mom (not a member of our club or swim team) comes sauntering up to the table with her two brats, er I mean delightful offspring and peers down her cosmetically enhanced nose at our offerings.

And then WHINES, I kid you NOT, cross my heart like a three year

"Your ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut of cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeese????!!! But we're vegetarians!!!What are we supposed to eaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat???!!!"

Now I'm thinking to myself, "Lady if I were a vegetarian, I'd make sure to pack my own food"

But do I say this, no I do not. Instead I point to the yellow goop and the fresh fruit we have and suggest nicely "perhaps this is an option?"

Her response?

"My family does not eat chemically processed food and are the fruits organic? Because I ONLY feed my family organic fruits and vegetables"

Now, I'm getting a bit miffed. I'm running a swim team concession stand here peeps, not a Whole Foods market.

But I hold my tongue and just smile at her, no words, just a smile.

THEN, oh THEN dear friends, you will not believe what she said next.

"WELL. humpf. Will you at LEAST pick the pepperoni off the pizza and blot the top with a napkin so it gets rid of the meat juice?"

I'm not sure what the expression on my face was, but I'm pretty sure it matched the temperment and tone of my response below.

"I'm sorry. But I didn't realize that being a vegetarian meant you couldn't touch meat. Only not eat meat. WHAT? Do you think the meat has cooties?"

And thus endeth my days as a concession stand mom.

SIGH. I guess this is a pretty clear indication as to why I'll NEVER, ever have a prayer for a career in the food service industry.