WORKING FOR THE MAN

      Joey was not there today. He told me last week that he wouldn't be there today. I grimaced and asked him what should I do… and he said I could just come on in and help Miss Lillian… and I couldn't think of a reason in this world to not do that.

       Backing up a piece, I gave the kitchen my prize stainless-steel ladle a long time ago. It's so big, it doesn't fall down in the soup pot, and it holds exactly a bowlful of soup. When it disappeared a few weeks ago (Joey said "So-and-so" took it to a luncheon…), I was not happy, and I have pestered So-and-so for weeks about it! Joey and the gatekeeper assured me the ladle had fallen into a black hole.

       So today I stopped at TJ Maxx on my way to the shelter and bought another enormous ladle. It's very pretty and it's durable, but it's not stainless steel… Anyway, when I got there around 10:30 (much later than usual), I approached Miss Lillian with, "Sorry I'm late; I stopped to get a new ladle."

       Boy was she surprised to see me! "I wasn't expecting you," she said. "Nobody told me you were coming." Then she gave me a quick review of what we were serving for lunch, instructions to give a second hotdog only if they asked for it, and a short diatribe about those stupid, picky, choosy people.

       Several times, she remarked at how happy she was to have me there, and that she didn't know how she was going to get all the work done by herself. I complimented her hair and set about making sack lunches. When it was time for the pre-release to come in, Lillian had prepared for me a buffet-style setup at the serving counter. I could serve, she said, because she knows I do that and she doesn't care for it. She had it all arranged: plate, beans, hotdog, salad. It went well, but there were only 10 or so folks in that group.

       When the next group came in, it was obvious that winter is here in earnest—our dining room was full. Lillian had to help me serve the plates; even she was surprised at the size of the group. One man said he didn't want a hotdog, just beans and salad, so I asked him if he'd like some tuna (I'd already put some on another fellow's plate earlier—with permission), and the man said he would. So I left the serving line, opened a little can and put the tuna on the man's plate. Miss Lillian was not happy about that, "Don't offer them other things; it slows down the line."

       You need to understand, the line is only 35 or 40 people long, we are not open to the public or expecting surprise guests, so slowing down the line by 30 seconds for someone who's hungry seems reasonable to me. THEN (bless my heart), a lady came to the counter and asked for a second hotdog. I gave it to her. That was wrong. Giving seconds was the rule for the pre-release—not for the homeless.

       Well… all's well that ends well. Even Mr. Huggy, Miss Lillian and I got to have hotdogs when the rush was over.

       I made more sack lunches, to Lillian's specifications, and then sacked some PBJs for our street folks. When Lillian wasn't looking, I gave them 2 Slim Jims apiece.

       The gospel hour was going strong all morning, but not so loud today, and I did enjoy most of the music. They're doing Christmas carols now, and it's hard to mess those up.

       Black Jack is all better today. He didn't even seem to remember how down and out he was last Sunday, so I didn't remind him. He did tell Lillian that he was leaving tonight (some higher-up told him his time was up), but Lillian would have none of that! She began to name names of people for the child to speak to about staying, and she finally flat-out told him to stay tonight because there was "no sense" in his being out there in the cold! Lillian most certainly can be a picky, choosy person when she wants to, and today she chose Jack.

       Our Angel came to lunch with a big smile and a hello. "I missed you last week," I told him. And the two little young 'uns were there, squealing with delight over the cheese sticks I gave them. They have the hollow-eye look that tells me they're not getting enough sleep.

       As I was finishing up, Mr. Huggy came in, and I wanted to show him our new ladle. I'd seen Lillian wash it, but I couldn't find it. Then I looked in the drawer where we'd kept the other one, and what do you think? The stainless-steel ladle was in there! It has come home, and I'm taking credit for bitching about its absence. Now we have two very fine ladles.

       If Joey were not there (now that I know my way around), I think I'd stay. Working for the man isn't as bad as previously conceived.