Lunch Lady Lu

Today's rant will be accompanied by pictures of sailboats. Because why not?
(Because I haven't taken any pictures in weeks. I'm sorry!)

Being a lunch lady is an insightful job. You encounter folks at the height of their hangriness, that pre-first bite excitement, or sometimes a rushed frenzy to grab a snack before class. "Keep the penny!" they shout, scuttling out the door.
And really I'm not a lunch lady but rather an employee of Quiznos or Subway, slicing open foot long hoagies and filling them with the wildest of sandwich dreams. I also make pizzas.

Without being too critical of the cafe, I'll tell you that we're always out of something and I never have enough quarters in my register. I've come to enjoy the other school employees, like the maintenance man, Kevin and the two campus police officers. One of whom consistently pokes his head into the cafe just to let us know that we are out of his preferred bread or salad dressing, chastising us for not being like Burger King. "I'm supposed to have it my way!" he says, flashing his bright white smile.

I've learned to see through the impatient students waiting at my register and determine if they're late, really hungry, mentally preoccupied, or if simply, they just don't like me. There are a handful I simply can't impress. There are also a handful I simply can't read. Or understand for that matter.
"Ugotta cakalata?"

In an interesting turn of fun facts I'll tell you that the kids (folks around my age) are typically polite enough, saying either please or thank you and maybe smiling at me if they look up from their phones. It's the adult students that snarl and snap and fight me about change. I'd say the school is nearly half adult students and I reckon they're there because previous plans haven't worked out and now they're trying something new. But when you've gotten to your fifties and you realize you have to go back to school, you don't have a whole lot of patience. And with the loss of patience, apparently goes all your manners as well.

I'm often appalled by the adults' behavior. I would expect, after all these years, that they would have learned the power of a kind word here and there. You're a grandmother after all. Don't you have the slightest clue how to speak to people? I am shouted at so regularly that no one even looks up.
"You want $4 for a sandwich?" a woman will howl, throwing it down on the counter and then looking at me as though I'd sawed through a kitten with a butter knife. Typically I respond calmly and this seems to enrage the victim, causing them to cuss and mutter while they gather their things and stomp out the door. I've heard the F-word from more middle aged women than, well anyone actually.
I also receive distasteful stares when I'm midway through fixing their sandwich and they discover I'm out of olives or green peppers. I get lots of teeth sucked in my direction and also expressions that would suggest that I am simply an imbecile that doesn't know what a green pepper is.

All this being said, some of the students, adults and kids, are the kindest people that remember my name and ask me about my day. Some of the kids have a fun sense of humor and we'll both get tickled at my sub-par sandwich making skills or the running commentary I feel is necessary while someone watches me watch their pizza bake.

My lunch lady services are now on and off for the rest of the month and probably a few to-be-determined days in February. I'm also still doing those conference set-ups though now they have hired two other men, making it five guys and me, and I feel like I really have to prove my usefulness.
Lately they keep giving me tablecloth duty. Is it because I'm a girl?