The New Stadium

It is 11:30 on a Sunday morning and I am contemplating the new meaning of “Things to Do When You’re Dead”; dead tired, that is. I started a job at the New Meadowlands Stadium where I am a Suites Supervisor in the luxury suites. My husband has been doing this sort of work for about 20 years now so, with unemployment insurance about to expire and all my part time jobs coming to an end for the season at the same time, when his former boss called me late one night to offer me the job, I seized it. I had no idea what it entailed; only that it was a job. My husband thought I was nuts. I realize now that he was just trying to shield me. But it’s okay. I completed my training, such as it was, and was literally thrown into the chaos of managing the needs of guests who had spent a shitload of money, chefs and assistant chefs who had been preparing for weeks, cooking for days, and on their feet for 14 hours per shift, managers who had no clear idea of how this massive ship of commerce was actually going to sail, suite attendants who were running around looking for missing this and that, cashiers who’d had enough training to open but needed someone else to close their registers…there’s more, but my brain is only able to track the number of dinner napkins, beverage napkins, plates, forks, knives, spoons, cups, condiments, etc. that I need in my pantry for the next event… assuming I’m sent to the same pantry, which is a serious question! Some pantries have kitchens and liquor; some have kitchens but no liquor; some have liquor but no kitchens, some have nothing but share space with those other people who crank out hot dogs, pretzels and sodas for the masses, waiting sometimes very impatiently for all their food to be delivered by runners who sometimes get lost negotiating the twists and turns of the massive stadium to bring them their carts of cold food, hot food, rolls, chips, pretzels, etc. etc.

All this is probably far more than you expected or need to know, but in the dawn of my waking this morning, I still found myself cataloguing and organizing in my mind as another portion of my brain kept silently screaming, “Stop it!”
Oh, and all this is capped off by a massive exodus of employees from a single parking lot with just two lanes out, adding at least an hour of unpaid work to the 12 hour day. I got home at three a.m.

Still, I don’t mind it! In fact, if I am to be honest, it was kind of fun. In my life, I have had occasion to work at a wide variety of “bread and butter” jobs, and I am always okay while I am learning how to do them. My mind always seeks to find new and streamlined ways to accomplish tasks and make things run more smoothly. It’s only when something becomes routine that I get bored and irritable and then it’s usually time to go. So right now, with my legs throbbing and my head stuffed full of unnecessary information, I’m okay. Jets and Giants start in August. I’ll let you know how it goes.