I got the call.
And what do we do when we get the call?
We get Mary on the phone.
“Mary!” I shout.
She likes when I shout into the phone, especially early on a Tuesday morning.
“Herro,” she says, mildly.
“Herro,” I say. “Hey, you still got those black pants?”
The phone line crackles. I get the impression that Mary answered the phone whilst slouching and has just straightened up.
“Yeeeeees…” she says cautiously.
“They got a crease in ‘em?”
“Yeeeeees…”
“You still got that white button-down shirt?”
“Yeeeees…”
“Are you prepared to button those cuffs? In the bright sunlight? At noon? With no shade in sight, sweat running down your back, and the keen look of a real go–-“
“Pearl! You’re killin’ me!”
“Get the starch out, baby! We got ourselves some servin’ gigs!”
It’s true. The season of working for cash is upon us.
You see the sweating chicks over there in the black pants and white button-down shirt? Yeah. That’s me and Mary, picking up the abandoned dishes at the graduation buffet, running to get your grandparents another cup of coffee, and furtively checking our watches to see how much time is left.
What? Of course I wish the kiddies all the best! Good for you, graduating from high school like that!
Could I get you some more coffee? Another frittata? How about something from the pack-your-own hookah station?
Funny how things change.
What ever happened to the good ol’ fashioned graduation party? The one where your mom put out ham sandwiches and potato salad? The one with the keg in the garage and the cigarettes we stole from your dad?
Oh, wait. I think I may have answered my own question.
When I graduated from high school, the legal drinking age was 18. The very next year the age shifted to 19, and just a couple years later it went to 21.
As Maxwell Smart used to say: Missed me by that much.
I’m sure there are still plenty of rowdy graduation parties around – which is, at least in my mind, a fitting way to finish your formative years. To hear some people speak, though, the idea of an 18-year-old drinking several beers and sitting in a garage with a number of other similarly impaired youngsters is a bad thing.
Which brings us back to the catered graduation banquet.
I don’t mind working summer parties, although I must admit I could do without the black pants. It’s hard to keep a smile on your face when you’re developing swamp-butt, although once your brain reaches a certain temperature and the hallucinations kick in it’s actually easier to keep a smile on your face, so it all works out, when you think about it.
So there you go. Well done, high school graduates. Be well. Drive carefully. Enjoy your fruit smoothies and butlered appetizers.
Mary and I are here to serve.
And what do we do when we get the call?
We get Mary on the phone.
“Mary!” I shout.
She likes when I shout into the phone, especially early on a Tuesday morning.
“Herro,” she says, mildly.
“Herro,” I say. “Hey, you still got those black pants?”
The phone line crackles. I get the impression that Mary answered the phone whilst slouching and has just straightened up.
“Yeeeeees…” she says cautiously.
“They got a crease in ‘em?”
“Yeeeeees…”
“You still got that white button-down shirt?”
“Yeeeees…”
“Are you prepared to button those cuffs? In the bright sunlight? At noon? With no shade in sight, sweat running down your back, and the keen look of a real go–-“
“Pearl! You’re killin’ me!”
“Get the starch out, baby! We got ourselves some servin’ gigs!”
It’s true. The season of working for cash is upon us.
You see the sweating chicks over there in the black pants and white button-down shirt? Yeah. That’s me and Mary, picking up the abandoned dishes at the graduation buffet, running to get your grandparents another cup of coffee, and furtively checking our watches to see how much time is left.
What? Of course I wish the kiddies all the best! Good for you, graduating from high school like that!
Could I get you some more coffee? Another frittata? How about something from the pack-your-own hookah station?
Funny how things change.
What ever happened to the good ol’ fashioned graduation party? The one where your mom put out ham sandwiches and potato salad? The one with the keg in the garage and the cigarettes we stole from your dad?
Oh, wait. I think I may have answered my own question.
When I graduated from high school, the legal drinking age was 18. The very next year the age shifted to 19, and just a couple years later it went to 21.
As Maxwell Smart used to say: Missed me by that much.
I’m sure there are still plenty of rowdy graduation parties around – which is, at least in my mind, a fitting way to finish your formative years. To hear some people speak, though, the idea of an 18-year-old drinking several beers and sitting in a garage with a number of other similarly impaired youngsters is a bad thing.
Which brings us back to the catered graduation banquet.
I don’t mind working summer parties, although I must admit I could do without the black pants. It’s hard to keep a smile on your face when you’re developing swamp-butt, although once your brain reaches a certain temperature and the hallucinations kick in it’s actually easier to keep a smile on your face, so it all works out, when you think about it.
So there you go. Well done, high school graduates. Be well. Drive carefully. Enjoy your fruit smoothies and butlered appetizers.
Mary and I are here to serve.
37 comments:
Hey- you and Mary got an opening? I'm used to the heat, have a couple pair of black pants, and ready to embark on new adventures!
Oh, Shelly. We would have such a good time. You must, of course, be willing to accept the idea that Mary and I can make you laugh until you fall down, but once you've taken this to heart and EMBRACED it, it's all good.
:-)
Wearing Black shirts and White Pants might cause the swamp butt to show thru with the colored droopies.
I have a new appreciation for servers!
High School? What about Jr. High and even Kindergarten!!
We had NO parties, my folks EXPECTED me to graduate!!
I had to travel from NJ to NY where the drinking age went from 21 to 18 by crossing a river. Sadly
many NJ'ers could not successfully cross back and killed themselves via auto mishap. NJ changed the age to 18 to avoid this out of state destruction exactly after I turned 21. Finally both states moved the age to 21, so 18 yo's could buy their booze from the 21yo's and everyone could kill themselves in their own state...ah progress.
Oh yeah once again, funny post!
Go, Pearl and Mary the Intrepid Servers! No party would be as good without the dauntless helpers in black pants (hiding swamp butt) who smile, clean up slop, bring fresh goodies and only look at the clock out of the corner of their eye.
If only the impaired remained in the garage; but there is that shiny auto!
Oh, how I miss the old-school graduation parties. My daughter, class of 2016, won't be having one like that.
But I miss them, nonetheless.;)
Oh, how I miss the old-school graduation parties. My daughter, class of 2016, won't be having one like that.
But I miss them, nonetheless.;)
you should get extra for you service since you blog about it. Maybe you could add that as an optional service.
Hari Om
Who cares WHAT the 'do' is? Cash is cash baby!!!
Oh Pearl you make me laugh:) and that is always a good thing. Cash is good:) B
I was at two of such parties on Sunday... Saved me on food, all I had to provide for myself was a bowl of shredded wheat for breakfast, so the food budget came out well that day... Of course, there were the gifts, so the bottom line still hurt...
I never attended a graduation open house until I moved to the midwest, yes, we had parties, but parents friends weren't invited unless they were really hip...
As for the drinking age, my younger brother got hit on that one--when he turned 18, he could drink but on January 1, they raised the age to 19, which meant he could legally drink for 2 weeks. It happened again, at 19 and at 20. I remembered thinking it was fun to buy him a beer during his 2 weeks of adulthood!
There was no party when I graduated but I don't want to think about what might have happened if I hadn't.
And there's no cheating on the shirt, either, is there? Long sleeves, missy, and don't even be thinking about rolling them up, despite what that would say about your willingness to work hard. Why? Why are short sleeves so bad?
At least the raised drinking age creates a bit more employment. :-) Here's to the cash economy!
Graduation party? What's that? After our graduation, a friend and I went out for pizza. Our kids didn't have any bashes, either. Neither did their friends.
But I'm glad to hear SOME people throw catered affairs... just so you and Mary can pant and swelter in those black britches. And line your pockets with gold and silver, of course.
As funny as you guys are, why aren't you putting yourselves out there as comedic entertainment hmmm?
Just sayin'....
I'm still have a year to figure this out. Or, break the news that it will be a back yard picnic featuring your cousins, aunts and uncles.
Except for the swamp butt, it sounds like fun. Enjoy being of service, Pearl.
xoRobyn
'It’s true. The season of working for cash is upon us.'
That was *way* cute.
Hey Pearl! I tell ya, I may have to beg for a few gigs myself until this damned book is written. I may have to push you aside *ahem* join you in the black-and-white. But please, tell me about "swamp butt"? Indigo x
Were you essentially making so much trouble drinking that they had to keep trying to stop you? What happened when you were 21? Did you calm down a bit?
I remember "swamp butt"! It was an early '80s Wes Craven film with Louis Jourdan and Adrienne Barbeau, but I think they capitalized the title or something.
Graduation party?! Are you kidding? These kids today are so damn entitled...back in MY day there weren't no such thing!
I don't like the sound of Swamp Butt.
Not. At. All.
Thank goodness my black pants are lightweight.
But that doesn't mean I'll be joining you and Mary anytime soon. I cannot stand working in long sleeves. It's short sleeves or nothing.
oh wait...I meant it's short sleeves or rolled up long sleeves.
While serving in the military the drinking age overseas was 18. And from experience I can tell you that 18 is not a good age to be experimenting with Everclear...
Here down under you can drink, vote and go to war all at the age of 18 which I think is right.
My great nephew (yes I know, I am a fossil) GRADUATES from kindergarten in a week or so. Which I don't understand. I am pretty certain that there is no catered celebration though - which is a shame. You, Mary (and swamp butt) could put meaning into the occasion...
Nice one Pearl! Swamp butt and all!
There was no graduation party for my graduation. I remember it clearly. The day I graduated (barely) my mother said to me, "you have exactly 97 days to get your ass out of this house!" I didn't wait that long...
Ha! What a giver!!
Oh Lord! I am not doing any fancy party! I'd rather just give him a beer and point him to his room to finish it!
Sorry I'm not around today.
Willie's father died of a stroke yesterday.
I'll be back soon.
Rest in Peace Willie's father.
My condolences Pearl.
Out here we had so few parties we had to invent them all over again when we turned 18.
We actually had Dinner Parties because we didn't know any better. Eventually though (with help from our old friend 'Alcohol') we discovered partying and spent several years laying face down holding down the grass from bucking you off.
...and I never gave a thought for those servers who toiled long and hard and had to put up with us...
A former relative papered her bathroom with pin ups (male/female) and bought a keg for her grads. She pitched the party and took the keys and told everybody to have fun, but they weren't going anywhere.
Pearl so sorry to hear about Willie's father. My sincerest sympathy.
We just had my son's graduation party a couple weeks ago, not in our garage but at the shelter house at the nearby park. No hired help either. Just me and the family having a get-together. No alcohol though. We had fun! :)
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