Here Comes Summer

Well folks, this will be the last update from the Mystery Meat files for a while, as I am now officially off work! Ahh, the lazy hazy crazy days that stretch before me now...

Last day wasn't too bad. I actually had to come for a full day, instead of my usual three-hour shift. First thing in the morning, we began packing sack lunches. Rows upon rows of brown paper bags: insert PBJ, bag of chips, apple slices, carrots, cheese sticks. Rinse, repeat.

Then on to the cleaning. Now, while I'm sure my faithful readers would just love a blow-by-blow recap of this, I'll just mention two of the highlights.

One: we threw away two hundred pounds of cheese. Really, I counted. Apparently someone didn't rotate the stock properly, and cheese that was supposed to be fine all summer was apparently last year's cheese. It wasn't a "science experiment" by any stretch, but it was visibly freezerburned.

Two: I got a free chemical peel, I think. Commercial ovens suck to clean. I wore gloves, but it was still impossible to avoid getting some cleaner on me as I scrubbed, and within half an hour I did indeed have a couple of sores on my arms just above the end of the gloves. And for the higher ovens, I had to stand on a stool and reach waaaaay in, with my ample fanny sticking out like some off-kilter homage to Pooh's fateful visit to Rabbit's house. I got oven cleaner in my hair, even. Given the chemical burns on my arms, it's a wonder that didn't give me an interesting new do.

During all this, lunch time arrived and we had to stop cleaning periodically to pass out sack lunches and ring up kids one last time. I was very lenient, given the circumstances...though I wasn't specifically permitted to do so, I waved through the few kids who didn't have lunch money. It's the last day, it's a sack lunch that will be otherwise thrown away. Who cares? Mrs. Grinch's heart grew three sizes that day!

And so my lunchlady adventures have drawn to a close for the time being. I shall leave you with this little tidbit, from the white-board notice I was asked to draw up to remind the kids (in yet ANOTHER way) to pay up their accounts during the last week of school.

Mrs. Grinch Redux

For the last few weeks of school, the credit allowance was removed. With about three hundred dollars in negative student account balances on the books, there's been a real push to get the kids paid up before the summer vacation. Ergo: from May 15th until the last day of school, charging was absolutely, positively not allowed. Any kid who did not have enough money to pay up front for lunch got a milk and one of those dreadful wafer bars.

I confiscated many lunches. And they did not take the new policy well.

One kid cried. Inconsolably. I explained as gently as I could that he did not have enough money. I explained that he would still get a milk and a peanut butter bar, which would certainly keep him from starving until three o'clock. And when he brought in lunch money tomorrow, he would surely get a nice hot lunch.

But no. He took a few steps away from my register, laid his forehead on a table, and began to sob. And there was NO talking to him. I tried, but I couldn't even get him to lift up his head. Teachers came over. No luck. This went on for a while. They did at least eventually steer him away from the register and out into the cafeteria area, and I don't know what happened from there. But wow.

But that was rare. For the most part, it was hard to feel too bad about it. Maybe my Grinch-y heart is hardening somewhat. It's amazing though, just how many of the chronic offenders - kids who claim they just really have trouble getting the money in, are always riding that negative limit and then bring in just enough to continue getting lunch - only needed to be given the alternate lunch once. Next day, there was a check from mom, with enough money to cover whatever was left on those final two weeks.

One kid got aggressive. Not physically...just aggressive in that boisterous, entitled, I-can-abuse-customer-service-people kinda way.

"What do you mean?" he ranted, "I can still charge! You always let me charge a couple lunches!"

Me: "No, I'm sorry. It's been the policy since May 15th. I can't allow any student to charge."

Him: "Well nobody told ME!" Right. You missed the letter home to every student in the school. And the notice read on the morning announcements not once but several times, both before and after the deadline. I don't think so.

He paced, searching his repertoire. "Well still, I didn't know I didn't have any money. You didn't tell me I had no money!"

Again, um, no. Keenly aware that it can be easy to lose track of such things, I've made a point since the 15th of telling children as they pass through my line: "You have two/one lunch(es) left on your account, you need to bring in some money soon." "That was your last lunch, sweetie, please bring lunch money with you tomorrow or I can't sell you a hot lunch." I have the information right there. On a big screen. Which the children invariably look at as they check out, largely because they like the fact that their picture is on it, but still.

I held out the bar. He practically batted it away, snarling, "If I can't have my lunch, I don't want that. I'm calling my Mom. I'm going to tell her about this." And off he skulked, leaving me to quiver in my apron over the tattling I was about to receive.

When he came through my line the next day, he slammed a fiver down on the counter in front of me. "I have money today. I'm taking my lunch. I won't have to call my Mom."

I treated him to my most witheringly unconcerned look. "That's so very nice for you."

Not the most mature response, I know. Hey. He started it!

When Songbirds Turn Deadly

I complain about other drivers, I do. There was no denying that fact when I commented one day on a courteous driver who did me a good turn and Duncan piped up from the back, "So, you're NOT the only person in town who knows how to drive?"

But I generally complain about drivers who are obviously bad. The ones who speed like crazy, then tailgate. The ones who feel the need to slip in and out of narrow openings in traffic, changing lanes like a hummingbird with ADD. The ones who are continuously and purposefully making dangerous driving choices. However, when someone cuts me off, makes a poorly timed turn, otherwise causes one of those sudden moments where I have to slam on the brakes - I take it in remarkable stride. Because I know that even good drivers have occasional flashes of stupidity...and I definitely include myself.

I decided to stop at a small shopping center to run an errand while on my way south to do the weekly grocery shopping. This center - 99 percent of the time I turn left to get into it, on a green arrow, then turn right to head back north to my town. Since I still had business further south of town, I turned left into the shopping center...then on my way out had to get into the left lane again...which, from this angle, had no green arrow.

The light changed to green, and in a moment of inattention and force of habit, I promptly proceeded as though I had a green arrow.

When I noticed the head-on I was about to have with an oncoming minivan, my first split-second thought was "What the hell is she doing?" As I slammed on the brakes to avoid her, my second, epiphanic thought was Oh my God, I'm a moron and I almost hurt someone.

But I didn't...and after correcting course and completing the turn, I continued down the road, face burning from embarrassment and engaging in a self-directed tirade that consisted largely of "stupid, stupid, stupid..."

So lady, if you're out there - I'm really, really sorry. I swear I'm usually a better driver. But sometimes all it takes is a moment of inattention, a flash of temporary stupidity, and I'm just glad I didn't manage to seriously ruin the day for both of us.

On a side note, it was a weird day for driving in general. Continuing on toward the grocery store, I found myself caught in a major slowdown, caused by - I am not making this up - a horse-drawn funeral procession. On a major state route, where traffic is normally going 65 miles per hour.

On the way home, I found myself at a red light beside a truck blaring very loud mariachi music. The occupants (there were five or six crammed inside) began hollering for my attention, and when I looked, most of them were pointing to their friend in the backseat with an air of "Eh? Eh? How 'bout it?" and making all sorts of gestures. "Roll down your window!!" they yelled.

"I don't think so," I mouthed back firmly and went on my way, but I couldn't hide the fact that I was smiling. Hey, it's nice to know that, sweaty and tired, wearing a ratty old hippie blouse and a do-rag, I still merit a little drive-by sexual harrassment. I don't care how offended a girl acts; she always likes the reassurance.