So back when I was a senior in high school, I decided that I wasn’t quite enough of a Sharon Cherske from “My So-Called Life,” maybe because that show didn’t exist then, more’s the pity, because man I could have used some perspective on these things, but anyway, since cheerleading season was over and I now had a few free hours in the week, I decided to start a catering business. Obviously.
It all began when the caterer for the Valentine’s Banquet cancelled at the last minute. This alarming news was revealed in Student Council one day. After a tragic crash and burn attempt at becoming Vice President in my junior year, I was allowed to come on as a class representative in the next.
And dude, I’d given my heart and soul and time into the glitter posterboard signs for this major event. I was still in the deep love throes of high school, and I’ve mentioned my abstinence, so nights where you got to dress up and sit in your gym under streamers were highly important. The idea of replacing an elegant catered meal with pizza, as was suggested in the meeting? Unacceptable.
Some people say that television is evil, and it certainly can be, but then there is the awesomeness of that little trigger it puts in you, at least growing up in the ’80s, because there was NOTHING you couldn’t do when the chips were down and morale was high! Never mind the movies — “Baby Boom” alone. Who knew applesauce could be so magical and bonding?
“Baby Boom” was obviously not on anyone’s mind, as they told me that my suggestion that I do the catering was a bit *mad.* But those are my favorite schemes! All’s the better! I banged it all out in my mind and presented a plan. It helped that Michelle liked the idea. Michelle was captain of cheerleading, and president of student council, and one of the nicest and most energetic girls. She also was one of the hardest workers I’ve ever known. I’m a bit *flighty* and work well with people like Michelle. They help me with the elusive follow-through.
And as president, she had pull. So the faculty advisor looked on worriedly but unobtrusively as I impassionedly pleaded the heresy of advertising a catered dinner, then serving pizza. Pizza is awesome, but all romanticism aside, I also hate false advertising.
We went to B.J.’s and bought a bunch of chicken, pasta, meat, and everything necessary to make an Italian dinner. Luckily, Michelle’s mom was a great cook and her parents not only didn’t mind that we’d commandeered their kitchen to make serving tray after serving tray filled with food, but they helped us. And Shannon was there, which worked out well, because Michelle’s dad was highly amused at tiny Shannon’s ability to polish off a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Heath Bar Crunch.
It was a lot of work, but amazingly enough, the food was good and we’d gotten it done! And there’s nothing like that beautiful feeling when every part of you is aching with exhaustion, but it’s all from having just pushed through. It was like a great workout, or completing a kickass paper at 4 a.m. Like I said, I’m good at ideas and enthusiasm, but not at finishing the task, and I was impressed by how much it helped, just having a nice group of people to get things done with. Accountability goes a long way.
The dinner was a success! People seemed to genuinely enjoy the food, and the faculty volunteers and parents who were there to assist with the banquet’s execution seemed really appreciative of all the work we’d put into making the meal, and really made it so that Michelle, Shannon, and I had a lot of time to just enjoy the party itself, which was extremely nice, since we’d figured we’d have to spend the whole time working. Instead, they told us we’d done enough work, and to only help when absolutely necessary.
The pièce de résistance was dessert, Make Your Own Sundae. It is my firm belief that most of life’s problems can be solved by people coming together and making their own sundaes, or pizza, and it is one of my Great Dreams to one day have a birthday party at Build-a-Bear or a crafts party place, and get guys to go. That would be an amazing time.
And sure enough, people made their own sundaes. Laughs were had. Tears were shared. And the goth chick got with the jock, and the preppy girl got with the bad boy…
…okay, not really. But it was a good night : )