COOK IS WELL LOVED!

       Before I got out the door this morning, Doug texted to say he couldn't come to work; his kid was sick. He said Dean would be there, and I assured him everything would be fine! I even believed that myself. After all, long before Doug became a fixture, Dean and I were serving Sunday lunch and enjoying it!
       But things have changed. Doug IS a fixture now. It became more and more apparent as the morning progressed. Dean greeted my first request, "What do you want me to do?" with, "You can do anything you want to do, Miss Joy. I'm not making lunch. They can even have sack lunches."
       Oh, dear. Oh, dear, dear.
       So I asked if I really could do as I pleased, and he assured me I could. The mystery box offered a half dozen new cans of soup ingredients. DEAN has a key to the pantry, and soon I had a whole SACK of soup ingredients! I told him I felt like a kid in a candy shop. The soup would be vegetable, except for a small pot into which I did not add bits of fried chicken left over from yesterday (we have a few vegetarians among the pre-release).
       There were a dozen plates of leftover fried chicken, corn, cornbread, and peas… so that gave us just a small edge over starting with nothing. Still, I made a HUGE pot of soup, and I found two fresh tubs of chicken salad in the big fridge and a large bowl of cold fruit cocktail. We served crackers on the side, and everyone got a small candy (because the goodies box had again been attended to—miracles do happen).
       Our pre-release group was downright grumpy today! Except for two cute guys who seem to like my pampering, the rest wore attitudes ranging from distant to sullen. Bad-Ass-Tats was the worst! And I'd been looking forward to "our time together." NO! He was NOT happy with his meal. "Is this all we get? You call this lunch?" Even telling him that he could have all he wanted did not change his 'tude. He wasn't in the dining room long, and I'm thinking he might be the person who left their plate on the table and walked out! That was a first for me.
       Even before they were called to lunch, a couple of the guys had tried to schmooze their way in. Dean and I stand together about that. "GET OUT!"
       Then during that lunch period, the homeless began the same schtick—first just one, then two, then another… "No! It's still not your turn and you must wait for the announcement." As I said to Dean, "WAIT FOR THE BEEP!"
       It's not that I don't want to serve these people, but when the plates aren't ready, there is no point in having them line up. Worst of all was that Dean truly did leave ALL of lunch to me. I had to design it, make it, and serve it—all 40 plates—all 15 extra bowls of soup, 10 extra plates of chicken salad, special-request "power sodas," more crackers, yet more crackers, gum for my girls, a Clorox-free rag to wipe soup off someones pants, more sodas, just an empty bowl please, and answers to questions such as "What's that white stuff?" That was the chicken salad. I explained that this particular chicken salad is known as "death in a tub" because it tastes so good and is so bad for you. The woman came back for more. Prisoners have this feeling of entitlement that I just don't get.
       Well… I hurt all over. I need to be sure to tell Doug that he was missed (the pre-release were obviously angry that their cook was not there), and that I've never fully appreciated how much back-up he gives me when I am "doing my thing."
       The Muddy Waters fellow was there mopping and helping out as needed, but not with food prep or serving. Still, I enjoyed seeing him. He's not cheerful today; rather, slow and downcast. He was limping up the sidewalk as I drove away, and I stuck my arm out the window and waved, knowing few people acknowledge him at all. What a sad place. We need Cook!