sometimes you score a goal, sometimes you're a national champ

Tonight was one of those nights at work that I will refer to again and again in the near and distant future. I went into the situation with some dread, fearing that catering a celebratory party for an ice hockey team (which I later learned was comprised of 9- and 10-year-olds) celebrating their national victory would prove tedious, loud, tiresome and, as our dishwasher would say, “mucho trabajo.” Turns out much of my prediction was correct. In about three and a half hours of tending bar I poured: 30 glasses of wine, 41 beers, 59 cocktails, and over 200 Shirley Temples (yes, that required nearly three full bottles of grenadine). The victorious youngsters were drinking like fish (and boasting about their consumption, as well) and their parents were hardly any different.

The kids were running around, yelling and screaming, blowing out candles, rough housing and making huge messes of their food. A homely girl in an outfit of pale pink was securing the attention of various boys by hitting and kicking them. A curly-headed girl who couldn’t have been a day over five slugged down four kiddie cocktails alone and seemed to be enjoying a fantastic sugar high before the inevitable crash left her sullen and disagreeable. Two preschoolers were egged on by older kids (and adults) to kiss one another.

I overheard many shallow conversations while the parents of these celebratory tweens numbed themselves to the playground sounds that emanated throughout the banquet hall. Grown men allowed their insecurities to be revealed as they, too, pined for attention in unconstructive ways. The coach became disgruntled with me when I asked him to please not reach behind the bar to grab what he was wanting.

Truly, in every way, it seemed no different from whenever any other event celebrating a child’s milestone is held in our facilities.

Enter Grandma C, the hostess of this event, whose grandson was the star player of the winning team. Grandma C was a very kind and accommodating woman, or so it seemed at first. So many hostesses seem sweet and accommodating at first and then Presto! Change-O! They magically transform into Bridezilla. Not so with Grandma C. She remained friendly throughout the duration of the party. She even complimented us on our work. Uh oh. The verbal tip. Sometimes that’s a very bad sign. Sometimes folks feel that if they shower you with kind words about your efforts, they don’t have to tip as much. But when Grandma C was presented with the tab, she asked my co-worker, Whitney, how the tip was distributed. Whitney explained to her that we are required to give a (larger-than-you-would-think) portion to the kitchen as well as to a busser who helped us out and then she and I split the remainder evenly. Grandma C asked permission to write personal checks to Whitney and I in order to give us each a bonus tip. Whitney said “sure” and left Grandma C to her check-writing. Delighted to know that we were receiving a side tip, we continued about our cleaning.

Much to our delight and surprise, Grandma C saw fit to tip us an additional $200. EACH. Suddenly I knew how it felt to be the national champion. This may be the closest I'll ever come to winning the lottery.