And For my First Job...

I got the most cliched possibility: a dishwasher. However, since most of the stories from the dishroom involve long hours with steamy old food and spraying bits of ambiguous foodstuffs out of the machine with a hose (somehow there is always macaroni cheese in the grates, yet we rarely serve macaroni), I will tell the tale of the deli line.

I've been gradually learning the ins and outs of the various positions at Lane, our beloved cafeteria, and today I ended up placed in the sandwich line. Seems pretty straightforward, right? For a normal person, it would be.

I suddenly remembered that from Kindergarten to 8th grade there wasn't a school day I can remember that I didn't have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Since then, if I'm having something else, I pretty religiously stick to American cheese with some kind of basic meat. I've never had lettuce and tomatoes on them in my life. I am not known for my exotic sandwiching.

I hadn't glanced at the two ambiguously diced and mayo-ed bins of meat, varying slightly in hue, which I now know were tuna and chicken salad. When the second girl in line asked for chicken salad, I came to the terrifying realization that I didn't know which was which. I had to ask her, which was which.

She told me I was "kind of scaring her," and I understood.

One girl, an acquaintance whom I relayed the episode to, said that since I could not distinguish the two she had "lost faith in me as a human being." It got pretty intense. When I said I didn't like mayo she just walked off.

Then a few sandwiches, a bit of nervous sweat, and one get-into-the-groove later, a girl ordered a pita. This is a bread option difficult to stuff in any situation. It would have been okay if she had ordered hummus and a slice of lettuce, but she ordered half a farm! Lettuce, tomato, salami, ham, pickles, onions, the works. There's like a quarter of an inch of space in these things!

I handed her a plate with her sandwich spilling out from the pita like taun-taun guts, and she gave me this look like it was physically possible to fit such an assortment of sandwich items into this quasi-bread. Not my fault.

Some say that everyone should work food service at least once, which I now heartily agree to. I've always liked the sandwich ladies at lunch--they're friendly, and they make a mean ham-and-cheese-- but I have never had more respect for them.

Tan-colored, Gordon-branded uniform hats off to you, workers of Lane.


-Will


"Whoa! There's a shirt with like, the whole Justice League on it."