She's my little whiskey girl..
Thursday afternoon, Joseph got home earlier than Marc and when we ran into one another in the hallway, he said something about how most of the people who volunteered to work the Toby Keith concert on Fort Knox this weekend didn't show up to the briefing they held that day. Which meant they weren't allowed to work it anymore. "So a bunch of guys asked if they could sign their wives up to work, and Marc put you on the list."
I didn't think much of it until Friday, when the anxiety started to build up about it and I was talking myself into staying home. "I'm just going to be in the way. I won't know what I'm doing, or what to do. I'm going to spill a million beers. I don't want to deal with a couple hundred drunken soldiers. I don't know anyone. Marc will ignore me the entire time. I'm not even a very big Toby Keith fan." Blah blah blah. Asking Marc about it Friday night didn't help much - all he could/would tell me is that we'd be working at the beer tent.
Marc had to go into work at the usual 5AM on Saturday, but Joseph woke me up so that I could get ready and I could ride in with him. I had a little under two hours to wake up, drink my coffee, get myself ready, prepare the bathroom for the puppy I was given last weekend, grab something to eat, and get out the door. Meaning that I was being rushed. Those of you who know me in real life figure out fairly quickly that I take at least two hours to wake up and drink my coffee, that I don't do anything in that timeframe, and that I LOATHE being rushed. Just as I'm getting ready to hop in the shower, Marc gives Joseph a call and says, "Wake Jennifer up and don't let her back out of coming." At least after four years of being together, my husband knows one thing about me.
I downed not even a third of my coffee and hopped in the shower. Everything seemed to be fine until we were walking out the door. One of the requirements for working the concert was that we wore close toed shoes and either a hairnet or a hat. As I'm looking for my shoes I realize that the ones I'd planned to wear - the ones that keep my feet the coolest and are the most comfortable - had been left in the Volvo, which Marc had driven to work earlier in the morning. So I was left to grab a pair that I bought three years ago that were still brand new (literally had never been worn). As I'm looking for a hat, I realize that I have NO idea where they're all at, but end up finding one shoved inside of a bookshelf. Everything seems to be in order, so we leave. Five miles down the road I realize: the one time I'll actually need it, I forget to put on deodorant. Awesome. I was being rushed, did something else at the point in getting ready when I always put it on, reminded myself to go back and put it on, but forgot.
We get to the gate to get on Fort Knox and, once again, everything seems to be in order. That's until the guard who's checking IDs asks if I was aware my Military ID expired on April 29th. No, wasn't aware of that at all. He confiscates my ID and we end up having to sit at the gate for ten minutes while he writes up a claim receipt.
As we're on the way to pick Marc up, I ask Joseph what time all of the festivities start. 7pm was the answer. Now, here's the point when I tell you that they started setting up everything that needed to be set up (the stage, all of the tents, etc.) at least a week ago. And here's the point when I tell you that they told us to be sure we got there by 1pm. They weren't even going to start letting people on post (civilians, at least) until 3pm. Joseph and I were kind of at a loss for reasons why we needed to be there so early if they didn't need us to set up the tents.
We pick Marc up and head over to the airfield. We meet up with all of their buddies, grab our work shirts, and head over to the tent. Spent the first hour or so stocking the tent and then we stood around and died of heat exhaustion for the next five hours. Seriously just stood there with our thumbs up our asses for five hours. :[ And the entire time, I feel awful because I didn't get the chance to eat anything before we left, we have no money to buy anything, it's ridiculously hot out, and the giant asphalt airfield we're standing on doesn't make the heat any better.
Less than an hour before the show is supposed to start, and I still have no idea where in the tent I'll be working, or what the hell I'm supposed to do. I eventually get tired of pacing back and forth, so I start opening cases of energy drinks to get them ready. At this point, there's well over 2,000 people waiting for the floodgates to be opened. This is around the point that we find out the big news: this is scheduled to be the biggest concert Fort Knox has ever had, with approximately 10,000 tickets being sold.
Around 8pm, they opened the floodgates. We have roughly two minutes to watch everyone climb over the barriers and full-on sprint to the stage. I think my favorite person was the girl who was pushing another girl in a wheelchair, all the while, you guessed it, at a full on sprint. Quite amusing.
We had two rows of tables set up, with the beer taps in the back. The people behind the front set of tables would be taking orders. There'd be another row of people in front of the second set of tables, handing off food, fixing drinks, and getting cups of ice ready. Behind the second set of tables, there was a couple of people setting up beer and doing literally whatever they could to help the people on the other side of the table. And finally, two people working the beer taps.
It took me two minutes to find my place. Marc was one of the people working the beer taps, so I took my place behind the second set of tables; which meant I'd be setting up beer and doing whatever I could to help the people on the other side. I rocked that shit like nobody's business. It was a good hour and a half before I finally threw my hands up in the air and said, "I need a cigarette before I rip someone's head off." I absolutely did not stop moving, even when I had a chance to take a break. Which meant, of course, that the brand new shoes I wore gave me a set of horrendous blisters on the backs of my ankles.
I was working like a mad man. Shouting out what beers I needed, stocking my table with said beers. Emptying a 20lb. bag of ice into cups. Stocking cups of ice in front of the people who were making drink after drink. Picking up garbage. handing off beers to people who were further down the table and couldn't find the beer they were looking for. Stocking beer cups at the taps. Stocking cups for ice. Stocking the cooler.
It doesn't sound like much, but I was taking almost every single beer that Marc poured (we'll say 7/10), and he went through at least SIX half-barrell kegs of Bud Light by himself. One half-barrell fills roughly 150 cups, give or take a few. That means that Marc and I pretty much moved about 630 cups of Bud Light between the two of us. And that doesn't even include the other beers we had on tap. (Amber Bock, Bud Light Lime, Budweiser, and two Bud Light taps.)
One thing is for sure, the night definitely gave me a sense of pride in my work ethic. I might be considered the laziest cow anyone has ever met, but when I actually have a job to do, I give it my all. Even when it's a volunteer job and I get nothing out of it besides the pleasure of knowing I helped out.
The night was, by far, some of the most fun I've ever had in my life - which says a lot. I worked my ass off. (And I paid for it Sunday. I begged Marc to rub my shoulders before bed and once he did, I was in tears because they hurt so bad.) Not to mention the fact that it made me realize that with as much as I would hate to work the floor of a restaurant, I would LOVE to work in the kitchen - especially during rush hour. There is something to be said for the amount of energy I absorb in that atmosphere. With as much as my thoughts race on a given day, there was no point in time when I had a chance to stop and think about anything other than the task at hand. It was so invigorating.
And, I only spilled two beers.
Sometimes, I forget how much I love being an army wife and how much I'm going to miss it when Marc is finally discharged. I definitely think I'll be looking into finding a job on post as a DA Civilian once everything is in order for me to get a job.
I didn't think much of it until Friday, when the anxiety started to build up about it and I was talking myself into staying home. "I'm just going to be in the way. I won't know what I'm doing, or what to do. I'm going to spill a million beers. I don't want to deal with a couple hundred drunken soldiers. I don't know anyone. Marc will ignore me the entire time. I'm not even a very big Toby Keith fan." Blah blah blah. Asking Marc about it Friday night didn't help much - all he could/would tell me is that we'd be working at the beer tent.
Marc had to go into work at the usual 5AM on Saturday, but Joseph woke me up so that I could get ready and I could ride in with him. I had a little under two hours to wake up, drink my coffee, get myself ready, prepare the bathroom for the puppy I was given last weekend, grab something to eat, and get out the door. Meaning that I was being rushed. Those of you who know me in real life figure out fairly quickly that I take at least two hours to wake up and drink my coffee, that I don't do anything in that timeframe, and that I LOATHE being rushed. Just as I'm getting ready to hop in the shower, Marc gives Joseph a call and says, "Wake Jennifer up and don't let her back out of coming." At least after four years of being together, my husband knows one thing about me.
I downed not even a third of my coffee and hopped in the shower. Everything seemed to be fine until we were walking out the door. One of the requirements for working the concert was that we wore close toed shoes and either a hairnet or a hat. As I'm looking for my shoes I realize that the ones I'd planned to wear - the ones that keep my feet the coolest and are the most comfortable - had been left in the Volvo, which Marc had driven to work earlier in the morning. So I was left to grab a pair that I bought three years ago that were still brand new (literally had never been worn). As I'm looking for a hat, I realize that I have NO idea where they're all at, but end up finding one shoved inside of a bookshelf. Everything seems to be in order, so we leave. Five miles down the road I realize: the one time I'll actually need it, I forget to put on deodorant. Awesome. I was being rushed, did something else at the point in getting ready when I always put it on, reminded myself to go back and put it on, but forgot.
We get to the gate to get on Fort Knox and, once again, everything seems to be in order. That's until the guard who's checking IDs asks if I was aware my Military ID expired on April 29th. No, wasn't aware of that at all. He confiscates my ID and we end up having to sit at the gate for ten minutes while he writes up a claim receipt.
As we're on the way to pick Marc up, I ask Joseph what time all of the festivities start. 7pm was the answer. Now, here's the point when I tell you that they started setting up everything that needed to be set up (the stage, all of the tents, etc.) at least a week ago. And here's the point when I tell you that they told us to be sure we got there by 1pm. They weren't even going to start letting people on post (civilians, at least) until 3pm. Joseph and I were kind of at a loss for reasons why we needed to be there so early if they didn't need us to set up the tents.
We pick Marc up and head over to the airfield. We meet up with all of their buddies, grab our work shirts, and head over to the tent. Spent the first hour or so stocking the tent and then we stood around and died of heat exhaustion for the next five hours. Seriously just stood there with our thumbs up our asses for five hours. :[ And the entire time, I feel awful because I didn't get the chance to eat anything before we left, we have no money to buy anything, it's ridiculously hot out, and the giant asphalt airfield we're standing on doesn't make the heat any better.
Less than an hour before the show is supposed to start, and I still have no idea where in the tent I'll be working, or what the hell I'm supposed to do. I eventually get tired of pacing back and forth, so I start opening cases of energy drinks to get them ready. At this point, there's well over 2,000 people waiting for the floodgates to be opened. This is around the point that we find out the big news: this is scheduled to be the biggest concert Fort Knox has ever had, with approximately 10,000 tickets being sold.
Around 8pm, they opened the floodgates. We have roughly two minutes to watch everyone climb over the barriers and full-on sprint to the stage. I think my favorite person was the girl who was pushing another girl in a wheelchair, all the while, you guessed it, at a full on sprint. Quite amusing.
We had two rows of tables set up, with the beer taps in the back. The people behind the front set of tables would be taking orders. There'd be another row of people in front of the second set of tables, handing off food, fixing drinks, and getting cups of ice ready. Behind the second set of tables, there was a couple of people setting up beer and doing literally whatever they could to help the people on the other side of the table. And finally, two people working the beer taps.
It took me two minutes to find my place. Marc was one of the people working the beer taps, so I took my place behind the second set of tables; which meant I'd be setting up beer and doing whatever I could to help the people on the other side. I rocked that shit like nobody's business. It was a good hour and a half before I finally threw my hands up in the air and said, "I need a cigarette before I rip someone's head off." I absolutely did not stop moving, even when I had a chance to take a break. Which meant, of course, that the brand new shoes I wore gave me a set of horrendous blisters on the backs of my ankles.
I was working like a mad man. Shouting out what beers I needed, stocking my table with said beers. Emptying a 20lb. bag of ice into cups. Stocking cups of ice in front of the people who were making drink after drink. Picking up garbage. handing off beers to people who were further down the table and couldn't find the beer they were looking for. Stocking beer cups at the taps. Stocking cups for ice. Stocking the cooler.
It doesn't sound like much, but I was taking almost every single beer that Marc poured (we'll say 7/10), and he went through at least SIX half-barrell kegs of Bud Light by himself. One half-barrell fills roughly 150 cups, give or take a few. That means that Marc and I pretty much moved about 630 cups of Bud Light between the two of us. And that doesn't even include the other beers we had on tap. (Amber Bock, Bud Light Lime, Budweiser, and two Bud Light taps.)
One thing is for sure, the night definitely gave me a sense of pride in my work ethic. I might be considered the laziest cow anyone has ever met, but when I actually have a job to do, I give it my all. Even when it's a volunteer job and I get nothing out of it besides the pleasure of knowing I helped out.
The night was, by far, some of the most fun I've ever had in my life - which says a lot. I worked my ass off. (And I paid for it Sunday. I begged Marc to rub my shoulders before bed and once he did, I was in tears because they hurt so bad.) Not to mention the fact that it made me realize that with as much as I would hate to work the floor of a restaurant, I would LOVE to work in the kitchen - especially during rush hour. There is something to be said for the amount of energy I absorb in that atmosphere. With as much as my thoughts race on a given day, there was no point in time when I had a chance to stop and think about anything other than the task at hand. It was so invigorating.
And, I only spilled two beers.
Sometimes, I forget how much I love being an army wife and how much I'm going to miss it when Marc is finally discharged. I definitely think I'll be looking into finding a job on post as a DA Civilian once everything is in order for me to get a job.