Frequently, circumstances will dictate that you spend a relatively long stretch of time at work. For whatever reason, shows tend to be scheduled in clumps, and of course, always on or around weekends. That means it's not unusual to go a full week or more without a day off. That also means spending long stretches of time with the same people in relatively close quarters under what can be hectic and stressful conditions. As is the case with lots of jobs, this can result in frayed nerves and short tempers where the slightest provocation can cause a huge fight. Of course, it can also result in a loopy state of mind where the smallest, stupidest thing can seem hysterically funny.
Last weekend, we had a run of ice skating shows with Disney characters, seven shows between Thursday night and Sunday afternoon. When we have runs like that, our employer is kind enough to provide us with free meals. Hayden, who is one of our part-time ticket sellers, is an affable, easy-going young man. He was in line getting food Saturday afternoon and was overheard saying, "Aw man, where's the basalmic vinaigrette dressing?". This innoccuous, innocent remark, the expression of mild disappointment at the unavailability of a prefered salad dressing, was seized upon immediately by co-workers and supervisors (I may have been involved to a slight extent as well).
First up were accusations of First World Problems:
"Oh, we're so sorry, sir. Does the selection of condiments for your free mail that you're not even required to clock out for while you sit down in a nice, quiet restaurant setting and eat it in peace fail to please your refined palatte?"
"Q: Do you know what the favorite salad dressing is in the Sudan? A: What is salad?"
"In the Ukraine, a salad is a bowl of snow with a couple of drops of diesel fuel for flavor. Unless your father catches you wasting diesel fuel and then 'salad' is just a term for him holding your ear tightly with one hand while hitting you in the head with a shoe with the other."Then it was imitations of Hayden at lunch:
"Where's the goddamn basalmic vinaigrette?!?" (A la a pissed-off Harrison Ford)
"You call this a demi-glace, you worthless son of a bitch?"
"Who taught you how to make petit fours, you motherless hack??"
"Hey, where the hell's the goddamn basalmic vinaigrette??" (This last one was done with a "Hillbilly Hayden" accent for some reason. Not sure why; since Hayden doesn't have an accent)And on and on and on and on and on and on. The more relentlessly it was driven into the ground, the fuinnier it was. For his part, Hayden smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "I just really like their basalmic vinaigrette dressing."
Okay, maybe it's not that funny. And I know it's a stupid way to spend a weekend but it's a lot better than being pissed off the whole time.
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