Observations on a Theme: Struggle and Triumph in College Foodservice
an excerpt

It was a great night. The rush had come early, before anyone had to worry about breaks, or cigarettes, or gossip. The students had come straight in, ordered their food, wandered over to the convenience store to buy some candy, or cereal, or condoms. Sometimes the C in the C-store was not only an abbreviate for convenience, but the objects purchased therein. Coke. Cetchup. Ceramics. Some students wondered why all the shelves were full, no matter how much of the product they took. They seemingly refilled themselves. Most took no notice at all, deluded by the deep thoughts and ideas that were flitting around in there soft, sponge-like brains. It must simply be like this, they think, as it must be like this everywhere. No effort was ever made, no brow sweat, no beads to wipe. A student got herself a bottle of tea- she dropped it, and certainly not on purpose, but it was not an accident- was there anyone to blame at all? The laws of physics only apply in class, after all. But not to worry, there was a hand that snatched it out of the air and deposited it, safe, in her hand again. She was tempted to drop the bottle again, but got distracted by some cheese nips on the shelf. So much for hypothesis.
And so much for the hand, who belonged to a man, not much unlike yourself. Unless, of course, you are a fool. For this man was not. It was he, and he alone, who created this atmosphere of perfection, servitude toward the student body by dedication, fostered the image of calmness, discipline, determination, and diligence, without the degradation most leader who use d-words such as this create. His name was Steve, and he was the absolute ruler of the orchestra that played music this sweet, this sensual servant toward the students. The conductor conducted himself back into his office, observing the fluid motions that his staff went through without worry as he went, weaving in and out through the waves of students, until he reached his office, where a large screen television sat situated against the wall. Twelve images from security cameras, each strategically placed, started back at him. He watched his staff and the students with pride. He focused on camera number 7, a camera that until three days ago had been turned twenty degrees to the left, the image of the prior position burned into the screen. Now the camera sat staring a little more to the right, at a station Steve had not ever had to be concerned about before. Pizza was a simple station, serving special slices, Stromboli, and other Italian s-foods as well as traditional fare. It required usually only minimal training to run, and further supervision was not required. Not that Steve ever really supervised directly, he delegated that responsibility to his three underlings, Ed, Dave, and Susan. But enough about them. What the camera was staring at was a station that had a new worker there- a Pizza chef by no means, but a pizza person, more correctly, Pizza lady, and more commonly pizza chick, who was desperately trying to catch rounded dough when she threw it into the air. It was very funny to watch, but not necessarily funny to do, at least, so Sarah thought. She was unaware and unconcerned about Steve who was gazing at the screen that was from the camera that was gazing at her. She hadn't even noticed that there were cameras around yet. Not to worry, gentle reader. She will realize, and nothing will change.

So Sarah threw the dough into the air one final time, and it arced perfectly, spinning and stretching, flour flying freely off of the orbiting edges, until it landed, as perfectly as it spun, on Betty's head. Her hat, stovepipe in nature, pierced the disc of dough, so it more or less graced her shoulders, much like a royal mantle, virgin, unbaked, and she was now the queen of pizza was she not? Sarah's hand flew over her mouth, which hung open in embarrassment “I'm so sorry Betty” she said. Betty looked up at the student that she was waiting on, knife in one hand, sub roll in the other, poised and ready to strike at the bread that would be filled with meat and cheese for the students nourishment. The student was laughing very loudly. His laughs were causing other students to look over, and they began to laugh as well, some applauding. Betty burst into tears, and tore off into the main kitchen. Sarah was stunned, but it was expected. She did not know Betty well yet, having only worked with her for a day prior to today. She walked over to the Subs station, and commenced making the student's (who, in the midst of laughing, decided to take a sip of a bottle of Coke that he had, and laughed again when Betty ran off, thus giving himself a Coke nasal douche) sub. Steve watched as her hands, those perfect hands, made that sub. She was absolutely stunning.