What Can I Get Fer Ya?

One of the lovely benefits of being a volleyball mom...

Working the concession stand.

Erg.

Hate. It. Dread it. Don't like it.

The Captain helped.

He was quite interested in the nacho cheese sauce and some "chips that couldn't be sold" for some made up reason or another.

And he was also really excited about steaming some more hot dogs. And tucking them in their buns and wrapping them all up in their little foil squares.

And he was very good back in the cooler with the powerade. Although he tried to promote and sell by FLAVOR. And we all know that people choose by COLOR.

Cause does anybody ever say, "I'd like a tropical fruity punch powerade, please." ? No. They say, "Red Powerade."

I just struggled with simple math and making change.

And actually looked at a girl and said, "Really??..." when she ordered five air heads, one pack of skittles, some nachos and a coke and then paid with a twenty....

Let's see, that's five times twenty-five cents plus two plus one - no wait, plus two plus two - oh then twenty minus four or is it twenty minus six fifty?

Ummmm - why don't I just give you ten dollars back and let's call it even....

I. Can't. Add.

I just tried to sell pickles.

And realized it's not smart to put the candy rack right beside the hot dog heat warmer lamp thing. See also: Melted Snickers

And tried not to puke when the very large and very hungry football players who had just finished practice came up and ordered 28 hot dogs. Each.

But I made it through. And helped clean that monstrous industrial size popcorn maker. And replenished the drink cooler. And remembered to turn off the hot dog heat warmer lamp thing so I didn't burn the whole building down.

And, I took out the trash.

And that ended the end of my nacho tour of duty.

Salute.