There is an outdoor concert venue near my house. Tonight I'm working concessions at the Chicago concert. I am not looking forward this, as I am still slightly traumatized by the Jimmy Buffet concert I worked a month ago. Why am I slinging beers for a bunch of badly behaved, overgrown, infantile, middle-aged rock-star-wannabees? I sling beers because my son plays tuba in his high school marching band. Long story, but if you have a kid in marching band, you probably understand.
So why am I NOT looking forward to 5-1/2 hours on my feet in 90+ heat, in athletic shoes, socks, a scratchy polo shirt and a baseball cap, with the sun full on in my face for at least two of those hours? Afterall, it's a free concert for me, right? Um, no. It's unlikely I'll hear much music between all the concession chatter:
- What can I get for you?
- Yes, I'm certain you are over the age of 18 grey-haired man with a comb over, but I must see your ID anyway.
- No I cannot serve you more drinks than you can carry in two hands. (i.e. two drinks). I don't care how many you can wedge in between your arm and your chest.
- Yes, I'm sorry, but I forgot which beer you ordered about halfway through your two-minute bitch about the fact that I cannot serve your water in the plastic bottle from which it came (Mr. Buffet's request, you figure it out). So which of the six brands did you want?
- No, this is not my full time job. I have a full time job. I have two full time jobs if you count single mom amongst them. I do this because I have a secret desire to be verbally belittled by people my age wearing grass skirts and parrots on their heads.
[tweetmeme source="JanetTrumble" only_single=false]I just hope the Chicago crowd is a little less obnoxious. Dang. And I thought being a junior high librarian was rough.