Calling All Volunteers!
October 24, 2013
I was volunteered by a good friend, Gary, who happens to be an Elk (of the two legged variety) who said to me few weeks ago, “You’re home during the day and I need more people to help with concessions at the Greater HIckory Kia Classic. Well, I might be home during the day but I stay extremely busy. It takes a lot of time and effort to do everything I do, which is…well, sometimes I’m…what I mean is…it just so happens that I have to... Durn diddles, if I’m not busy doing one thing, that means I’m really busy doing something else. And dickens, it’s all I can do to get both done most of the time!
However, even with all my busyness I figured why not hang out with golf pros for a day; hadn’t done that in a while. Actually, I’ve never done that. Therefore, in the spirit of altruism I responded, “How much does it pay?” (Kidding!) Seriously, I said, “ Sure, I’ll help. I might just meet a nice golfer in cowboy boots.” Not on the course, of course. Geesh, even golfers know spikes and boots don’t go together like spurs and boots. Anyway, I ended up preforming my volunteer duty in the large concession stand on the 19th behind the bleachers. In golf terms that means we had the most strokes over par in the form of menu items.
Things started out slow that Friday morning, the green speeds and in concessions, with just a few golf attire clad customers asking for hotdogs at 10:30am. Wowzer, a person who can consume a hotdog before noon has to be a brave soul. No worries, I’m not going to lecture on the sodium content of hotdogs. Although, allow me to state, as a matter of fact, that if all the water in Salt Lake was replaced with hotdogs you’d still float. Enough said.
At any rate, running a register appeared to be the place I was needed and I quite skillfully shanked the first one right as I teed off. Yeppers, pressing the CASH button set off bells and whistles as a blinking “ERROR” flashed on the screen. Yikes, I needed a mulligan.
Bobbi, Jim, Roger, Tommy, Wendy, Jeff and Evelyn
Thinking fast I yelled “FORE!” then asked my customers to slide their putters to the next register where I competently addressed the register and did it again. Nothing like a flashing LED display to let everyone know you executed a double bogey.
The good news was even as the register was having a divot fit at least the drawer opened and I was able to successfully distract my customer with continual chatter as I accepted their money. Fortunately Chris, the liaison between the concession booths and the caterer cleared the error. Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to press the CASH button right on the word CASH, which, now that I reflect, seemed too logical. Instead, I needed to press it below or above the word. Interesting, and illogical as Mr. Spock would say; but Spock never worked retail.
Therefore, grabbing my forgiving club, I resigned myself to operating the only register I hadn’t put in the bunker. Wendy, on another register, was doing an awesome job of cheering the men (Jim, Jeff, Roger and Tommy) on as they slapped buns with toppings, exacting the precision of sous chefs; okay, maybe fast food employees, but they were having so much fun clubbing lettuce, cheese and tomatoes on sandwiches…oh, and pickles. Lots and lots of pickles! Then Evelyn arrived and helped pass drinks to the customers. During a push things got hectic on the fairway as everyone started shouting orders at once. Even the eyebrow raising, “Hamburger, lettuce, tomato, two pickles.” “Two pickles?” “Yes, two pickles.” “But we have lots and lots of pickles!” Suddenly, all eyes were on Jeff as he artfully placed just two pickles on a cheeseburger. Ah, those crazy busy spells were so much fun. All of us dressed in Elk colors of purple and gold and the customers were having a spectacular time!
Holy dickens, who could complain, the food was wonderfully delicious and the hamburgers were pancake size. Just imagine a stack of hamburger pancakes for breakfast. Never mind, don’t imagine. I don’t want to be inadvertently responsible for soaring cholesterol points. Not surprisingly, every time a customer received a burger their eyes got as big as saucers as they exclaimed, “Wow, this hamburger patty is huge!” Well dickens, you should know me well enough by now to know I’d say, “You should have seen the size of the cow!”
Can you imagine…two under par on the 4th with a chance at an eagle?
Smile, you’re not in the bunker!
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