Of Badges and Glass Eyes

B has a second job. Actually it is probably like a third or fourth job. He has worked numerous jobs since I met him.  I used to do that too. When I was young and did not fall asleep on the couch at 7:30 p.m.   B must still have some of that youth in him.

Anyway, his second (or third) job is as guest relations at a sports arena.  He works hockey games and concerts.  Even though every time he works he comes home grumbling about it, I know he secretly likes it. After all, he has been there for about three years now.   I like when he comes home telling tales of what occurred.  Some of them are just too damn funny.

So the other night when we were out to eat, and B began telling me what had happened at the latest concert (a big band from the 80s that is still going strong today), I knew it would be good. I was not disappointed.   B first started telling me about some cops that wanted special treatment. What they wanted was to get to the main floor, without the proper ticket.  It didn't help their cause, in B's eyes, that they were cops right near our city.  B tells me their exchange went something like this:

Cop: I am a police officer with [city], can't you just let me down to the main floor? [flashing badge]

B:  Are you one of those cops that just sit by the exit to the freeway and nails everyone that comes by?

Cop: Oh no! Not me.  I don't do that.  Please just give me a wristband.

B:  Oh, I see. So your badge entitles you to a wristband?  If you pull me over while driving through [city] and I am wearing a wristband, will that get me out of a ticket?

I like that boy's logic.  B baffled the cop into silence but then took pity on him and let him go down.  Actually, that part of the story was hard to believe considering B does not have a good track record with the police in our area.  You see, before the new car, B had a different car that was totaled on the freeway when some jerk decided he needed to exit RIGHT THEN and cut across all lanes of traffic, into B, and sending B into the side wall.  When Mr. Police Officer arrived on the scene, there were nothing but skid marks.  Jerk left B for dead on the side of the road.  B told Mr. Police Officer his story, only to not be believed.  For some reason, Mr. Police Officer thought that B was lying and had careened himself into the side of the road.  As they sat in the police car arguing (yes B is obviously not intimidated by authority figures), Mr. Police Officer's radio went off saying "we have a call from a driver who witnessed some jerk plow into a guy on the freeway and take off. The person followed the driver home and has identified him."  I believe B's exact words to Mr. Police Officer were "huh. I guess I didn't careen myself into the wall after all."  B's my hero.

Anyway, I was nodding during this story about his job, thinking it was great and wondering if it was worth a blog when B said the following gem:  "Then there was the guy who lost his glass eye."

STOP

I actually said "STOP," reached into my purse and pulled out the notebook where I write such gems to blog about later.  Then I proceeded to say, "Continue..."

B: Yeah, some guy lost his glass eye.

Me: His real glass eye?

B: Yeah, I am really not sure how you do that. We were looking all over the ground. I actually think his girlfriend did it.  I saw them fighting earlier and I think she hit him.

Me: She hit his glass eye out?

B: That's the only thing I can think of.  I wonder if someone will turn it into the lost and found.

Um, WOW. That is all I can say.  The rest of the time I just laugh in my head at the spectacle I imagine occurred.  And I thought losing a contact was bad.

On another note, B told me he was employee of the month this month at the job.  Totally well deserved, especially since he didn't need a sock puppet.

Kudos to you B! You rock!

Master of Puppets

So you may be able to tell that I have an affinity for using songs for titles to my posts. More specifically, songs from the 80s and usually hair bands.  The trend will continue for today.  As a p.s. to yesterday's post, it turns out that the song lyrics were actually identical to the dream.  Eerie, no?  Here are some of the lyrics:

In my dreams -- its still the same

Your love is strong, it still remains

In my dreams -- you're still by me

Just the way you used to be.

(Dokken - yes, a hair band.  Circa 1985)

Now, as for today's title - there is a tie in.  This story comes courtesy of B.  We are out to dinner one evening regaling each other with work tales.  B doesn't have a blog so I am his usual outlet.  So he starts griping about someone at his side job that made employee of the month.  I was munching on fish and chips, or a burger, nodding and half listening until I hear him say something about a hand puppet?  I immediately stopped what I was doing, held up my finger, reached into my purse and got out pen and paper and then told him to proceed  (Side note: I don't think he liked that too much).

Turns out that the employee of the month is a guy that wears a puppet on his hand ALL of the time.  So, you are wondering, "hey, what fun family activity type place does B work at?"  Um, a hockey rink.   And what fun family activity does this employee perform?  He is an USHER. That's right folks - he tells you where your seat is, apparently while talking through a puppet. That is not the extent of it though, sadly.  He actually communicates with his coworkers through the puppet as well.  

Pretty sad day when you lose out on employee of the month to a guy with a sock on his hand.