Saturday Night at the VFW

BINGO! The shouted word rings through out the small VFW hall as yet another person wins what was supposed to be yours. Only one number needed and you had waited and waited and waited for it to show itself on the wall mounted monitor. Again!

The sound of pages being ripped off pads of bingo numbers, shuffling of feet as preparations are made to shove chairs back to form lines into the small kitchen/concession area. Losing can be a thirsty proposition as well as needing a little something to shove into your mouth providing comfort.

Stepping through the door you are greeted by a six-foot five mammoth of a man. He is very large in all ways. The smile and twinkle in his eyes has you giving your order with a smile in return. Moving along the counter top is another six-foot male, face lined with wrinkles and grin exposing a few gaps in his smile as he hears the call for the deep fat fryer to go to work. The third person, at five foot eight or so and female handles a little bit of everything. The grill, sandwiches,serving the special and like her husband and father, her smiles radiates volumes of warmth. The fourth is the runt. She is only five feet, nicely rounded with a few wrinkles to go with her naturally grey/white hair and had a genuine smile all her own. She is the novice, her first time working the concession and sandwiches are her thing tonight.

For the next hour and a half the kitchen is hopping. French Fries and onion rings fly out the door. Bread for egg, chicken and BLT’s are toasted, condiments applied, stuffing on one side and the lid applied. The sandwiches go out alone or accompanied by their fried side of choice. The “special” is plated, pie or cake is served and everyone walks back to their paper bingo cards armed for the next game.

This scene is played over and over again on Tuesday and Saturday nights. I am the fourth person and am a fill-in for the regular who is taking a break after being (I can only assume) consumed by the overpowering smell of hot grease.

How did I luck into this opportunity? The concessionaires are friends and what the heck – I walk away with forty dollars in my pocket. And I get to watch all of the people. Mostly old people but some neat characters, wonderful craggy faces, and all so wanting to welcome and help someone new.

But finally it was over! The stand was closed and now we clean. Everything washed, wiped, and mopped. Bathrooms mucked out and awaited the final BINGO!to be mopped. I did not have to wait and wearily climbed into my golden chariot and sped home to quickly change into my nightie and take to the bed.

Sunday I did absolutely nothing. My body was screaming at the assault of actually having to work steadily for a couple of hours. I sat and dozed, read my book, watched the tele and pulled myself up only to go to the loo and eat bread and cheese. Jesse had to fend for himself.

Forty dollars in my pocket and I am ready to face it again on Saturday. This is good for me, right?