Your Server Hates You

“You smell like defeat,” Jared said to Victoria.

“Whose feet do I smell like?” Victoria asked, after she misheard Jared.

“I said ‘de-feat’, as in, you’re surrounded by losers,” Jared clarified.

“Oh yeah? Well you smell like every hope and dream you’ve ever had has been barfed back up all over you.”

“I’ll have you know that it was not my hopes and dreams that were barfed back up all over me, but two hot dogs, a plate of nachos, a big of peanuts, and cotton candy,” Jared corrected her.

“God, I hate this job,” Victoria said.

“I hate it even more.”

It only took two weeks of the baseball season for Jared Branson and Victoria Hantz to discover that the food concession biz was a horrendous way to earn money for college.

“The team scores and everyone wants to celebrate with a beer. The team loses and everyone wants to drown their sorrows in a beer. Only they end up spilling half of it all over me when they try to do that dorky wave,” Jessica lamented.

“Or they try to get their kids to stop fussing by shoving food into their mouths all afternoon. How many hot dogs can a kid possibly eat? And what the fuck are they doing bringing a kid under the age of eight to a ball game anyway? That’s like expecting a junkie to not freak out after telling him he has to sit tight until his next hit four hours from now. People are so stupid.”

“Baseball is stupid,” Jessica added.

At that moment, baseball most certainly did seem stupid to her, but in a few months she’d head off to business school and learn that baseball was actually a very profitable industry. There were plenty of other profitable industries out there as well, and if she studied hard she might just get a job in one of them. Maybe even one that paid well enough to allow her and Jared to take the future kids they would one day have together to a ball game. Not until after they were eight-years-old, of course. They weren’t that stupid.

“I hope I never see another bratty kid as long as I live,” Jared said with the innocence of someone who had yet to have children of his own.

“And I hope I never have to see or smell any of this crappy food after this season,” Jessica said with a world weariness more suited to someone her mother’s age.

She would, of course, because the day would come when she, too, would discover that it’s sometimes easier to give into your kids demands than to fight with them. She had another ten years before she learned that life humbling life lesson though. Another ten years to fool herself into believing her kids would only ever ask for fresh, healthy food.

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