Doug and Gatekeeper were deep
into sharing the week's events, when I slipped through the back door. That tête-à-tête
lasted long enough for me to put my bags away, put on my apron and wash my
hands. There was nothing obvious to do except jump in and help fill the sack
lunches. When the guys were through catching up, Gatekeeper left, and Doug said
to me, "You see what you're doing right there?" (making sack
lunches). Well, yesterday, the Saturday Lady was doing the same thing when Dean (the custodian) came in and just took four of her sacks to take home with
him! So she asked him if he was a volunteer and why did he think that was okay, and he told her she obviously
didn't know who he was…"
This is the same shtick that
Lillian pulls when she needs food at home—it's there, they have plenty, she
feels entitled to it. So the Saturday Lady is fairly new on the scene, but
these things will not go down quietly. Not on her watch. I'm staying tuned!
I did call Mr. Huggy last week
and tell him that I would go pick up
goodies at the food bank, if he could not. No, he said—after listing the many pieces of paperwork on his desk—he
would go, and he did. The goodies were all Twinkies & cupcakes, but better
than none! Surely we'll get another load of gum and candies eventually.
When I asked Doug what was for
lunch, he said, "I'll deep fry something." There wasn't a plan
anywhere. He did have dinner in the making, but lunch was just hanging out to
dry. I offered to make "the soup," but he said there wasn't time. I
said there was! We still had 80 minutes. So he opened the cans that I chose
from the mystery box, and I dumped them into a big pot. I added a lot of water,
a cup of rice and half a bag of macaroni. It was good! It was not like any other we've had, so that made it just
"the usual." Doug, himself, ate two bowls.
On the side, we had deep-fried
corn dogs, French fries, and okra. There was applesauce too. The people ate—and
ate.
The little girl and her father
still live there, but I haven't seen the child in weeks. The teenagers are
still there, and the older one reported that she was accepted to volunteer at the police department! I wanted more
details, but we never got around to it. Maybe next week.
Some benevolent soul has
"donated" a TON of soft drinks to the shelter. They are a brand
previously unknown to us. The cans read enticingly—no sugar, no fake sugar, no
caffeine—and the label is intended to lure our thirst (for orange or pineapple,
for example), with no downside. Bottom line: this is fruit-flavored seltzer
water, and the flavoring has been used very sparingly. No one will drink them.
I tried a tiny can of "orange drink," and Doug offered me a sip of
one in "pineapple." No sale. So no
wonder they've been "donated." Sadly, these things cannot even be
used at a pig farm, but I suppose the cans could be recycled… if the shelter
practiced recycling…
Miss Lillian was back at her
post last week, "miraculously healed," according to Doug. Sadly, the
health department showed up on Lillian's third day… and of course Doug had to
take the fall for the missing 3 points. There's no news on the new head
cheese—and I've stopped expecting any. He's warming that chair until gold-watch
day, so no need to make waves.
Poor Saturday Lady is so hell-bent
on making waves that she asked Doug, "Has a volunteer ever been
fired?" Between the two of us, we'll surely find out, in time.
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