A Day as a Catering Coordinator

Well, I wake up in the morning, And the 'larm gives out a warning, And I don't think I'll ever make it on time....Woop woop.


Actually no, my day doesn't begin with the Saved by the Bell theme song, but wouldn't that be nice?  Instead it begins with incessant waking up in the early hours of the morning because I'm absolutely PARANOID I'll oversleep my alarm and all hell will break loose.  I don't show up on time = worse than the Taliban's ability to crochet a swimsuit for your Aunt Mildred.


So a piss poor sleep is how I start my day.


On my schedule for this evening is a cocktail reception at an alternate location.  An alternate location means I get to transport anything and everything I need to make said cocktail reception a success.  So I pack.  And I make lists.  And I double check lists.  And I go crazy with lists.  And I triple check lists!


So at 2pm, I made the move towards the location.  Estimated start time...5:00pm.


But first, I have to swing into a gas station for bags of ice.  Because where I'm going...there is no ice.  And beer needs ice.  So does wine.  I can't just fill the containers with packing peanuts.  Thank the Lawd for a smart phones...because otherwise I wouldn't have found the nearest gas station with an ice box.


So...I pull into the GHETTOIST Shell gas station ever.  I was banking on having my car on blocks by the time it took me to buy 2 bags.  That and the crazy man eating saltine crackers and some unrecognizable substance next to the cash register...I couldn't get out of there fast enough!  I was the only one there not walking with a limp, packing heat, and with a rap sheet.  Goodness.  So I open the car, throw the ice in, lock the car, walk around the car, unlock the car, throw myself in, lock the car, peel out in a getaway heat.  Skinny Ging in a suit on a mission!


I make it to the destination and I start unloading.  And unloading.  And beginning the arduous task of set-up.  Between 2 of us, it takes almost 2 hours for catering placement, beverage service, and the like.  Mind you the view is overlooking the water, so nature was on our side in that respect.  And I have a plan of watching the sunset and seeing the water color change.


Come 5:00, people are arriving ready for the festivities.  I'm working, I'm meeting, I'm greeting, I'm talking Scotch.  And now I'm starting to feel my feet bitch.  And bitch they do.  They're dying.  And we've only just started.  And yes, they were Reports.  But I don't care how comfy your shoes are...long days on your feet are killer.


Oh, but wait,...we're running out of tonic???  Oi.  Okay, I'll run next door for more.  No problem.  Run, grab, purchase, back, no sweat.  Well, actually there was a lot of sweat, because I was power walking, in a suit...in a heat wave...ya...


Add additional tonic to beverage service.


15 minutes later...*EXPLODE*


Someone opened the new tonic in a fit.  And now it's everywhere.  In the fresh drinkware, in the bar mix, in the bowl of limes, on the water bottles....PAPER TOWELS COMING RIGHT UP!


Feet are barking...feet are barking...


Note to self: Open tonics in a controlled setting in the kitchen.  Done.


They eat, they gaggle, they socialize, they finally drag themselves to their event.  We were just the preamble.  What's next?  The clean-up.  Ugh.


But let's fast forward through that.  Because you don't care about that.  You don't care that as soon as the guests left I pitched my shoes off in a fit of rage.  You don't care that there was extra wine left over that I helped myself to a glass.  Well, actually a coffee mug.  Because I wanted to relive the college years.  That I called my mom and told her about my day.  And told Mr. Wookie that...no, I'm not done yet.  And you might care that I just had to sample the fresh fruit tray that NO ONE touched.  I swear healthy eating eludes this coast.


And there's a load more detail, but you don't care.  And I don't care.  The pain has faded from my feet.  I've had a few sips of wine...but that's because I'd rather tell you about my day.  And this is a very abridged version.


But the icing on the cake for the day.  This morning, I emailed my boss saying that by the end of this evening, I will have worked a full week's work...so I'd like to take Friday off.  And I wait for the "okay."  And I wait.  And I wait.  And 4:00pm passes.  And I wait.  And I wait.  And near 5:00pm, beauty was granted.  I have Friday off.  I HAVE FRIDAY OFF!  What up???!?!?


Oh, and when was I done?  8:25pm.  12-hour work day.  And yes, I love, love, love my job.