Lately,
I've been using the back door when I arrive at the shelter. It gets me out of
view of those who are huddled in the foyer and anyone else for that matter. I
knock on the back kitchen door, and Doug lets me in. Generally, one must knock
loudly and several times because the usual kitchen noises drown out the sound.
But today, I knocked only once, and within seconds, Doug opened the door. He
was doing his job, and I was in the right place at the right time, but
unfortunately, he didn't know I was
there.
He took
one look at me, gasped loudly and grabbed his heart. Then the "Oh, my
Gods!" began to roll off his tongue, accompanied by, "You scared me
to death!" and a few more "Oh, my Gods!" The boy staggered
around for a minute or two, gasping, and I suppose wondering if he was going to
live.
I wanted
to apologize and make it all better, but he'd been done in, through no one's
fault. All we could do was wait for the shock to wear off, and in time normalcy
resumed in the kitchen.
No soup
today. Doug had planned chicken salad, fruit, and um, um… two #10 cans of
pintos that I suggested. I diced an onion for those. The refrigerator was
filled with sack lunches; the floor was mopped, and I had little to do until
serving time, but we had quite a crowd. There were 11 pre-release and at least
30 homeless residents.
Crusty
Old Gal was keeping the gate, and she kindly let me plunder the front pantry for
next week's soup, and anything else I found interesting (like a can of
sardines). Doug wants so much to dis the old girl, but he likes her a lot, in
spite of how he thinks he should feel
about her. It's got something to do with hierarchy, I think.
Angry Mom waltzed into the dining
room before lunchtime and wanted to know what was on the menu. She's been known
to yell at Doug for having given up her food stamps to eat at the shelter and
then finding nothing on the menu to suit her taste. Doug told her that if she
wanted the fresher food (not yesterday's leftovers), she needed to be first in
line, and when her group came in, she was near the front. She began by asking
for extras. I mean, really… this woman is a challenge, but I admit that I enjoy
meeting her head-on. "You may have extras after I have served everyone
else," I told her. She and her boys took plates to their table, but before
long she pushed into the moving line of diners and asked for 2 saucers. She did
come back for extras after the crowd was served, and she surely has a great
sense of privilege.
I slipped
a pack of gum to the funny fellow who professes to being a child too, but I
gave nothing to Angry Mom's boys today. They already have too many
"things" and not nearly enough appreciation.
After all
the diners had left, I was cleaning up and puttering about when I heard a knock
at the outer dining room door. The volunteer who was working off his service
hours mentioned that someone was knocking. I looked up and thought I saw Doug pass by, but no one appeared. So I went to check it out. When I
opened the door between the kitchen and the dining room, he got me. Scared the
living daylights out of me! My knee-jerk reaction was to grab his arm and dig
my nails into it… and fuss at him—a lot.
Ah, the kid just couldn't help himself—he
believed he "owed" me a good fright, and we can surely say
"mission accomplished."
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