MORE PUMPKIN.

"Monday's are the potholes of life." --Tom Wilson

Seeing as it's been a week since the "Day of Defeat", I have sufficiently recovered, and throughly embraced this Monday.

My day in itself was fine, but I observed other people who looked like me last week.

I was assigned to make more--yes, more--pumpkin rolls.

Seriously.

I've seen, smelled, and eaten enough pumpkin to last me till next year. Thanks, though.

I gathered all of my ingredients, and then realized that the kitchen was in a mad frenzy over the 20-quart mixer bowls. Apparently every last culinary student was after one, and I found myself at the end of a very long line.

"Well, screw that."

I went to Chef Tony to tell him of my dilemma, and to explain why I couldn't start for a while.

On Friday, he gave me this long lecture about how even though he wasn't always watching me, he was always tracking my "time on task". I wanted to let him know, so I wasn't accused of dawdling.

When I went to tell him, he immediately assigned me to help Kim make pumpkin cheesecake. She then reported that Chef Tony had been yelling at her all day, and she was glad that I had come to help her.

When A-shift left, there was a sudden clearing in the air. I looked at the pot sink, and there, shining, was a whole mess of 20 quart mixing bowls!!!

HALLELUJAH!

I picked back up where I had left off with the pumpkin rolls. I threw it all into my freshly washed bowl (IN THE RIGHT ORDER, might I add.), buzzed it around, and before I knew it, I had a lovely, silky batter.

I went to go and prepare my pans for the batter, and left my batter in the mixer. I didn't really think much of it.

I finished up with my pans, and made my way back to the mixer. But when I got there, I was confused.

Standing in front of the mixer that I had been using, was Kyle.

I will describe Kyle to you as the "class clown, sixteen-year-old, doesn't-really-know-when-to-shut-up" type.

Anyway, he was standing in front of my mixer... with a bowl of cake mix in his hand.

He was pouring HIS cake mix into MY batter.

I looked at him, and he looked at me... a pause, and then, the moment of dreadful realization.

After shock had set in, he asked:

"Oh, my Gosh. Is this your's?"

"Yup."

Now, I have to let you all know that I was NOT mad. At all. Merely surprised. I just really didn't know what to say, until I looked at Chef Tony.

"I'm not gonna tell him." I said.

Seriously, I don't think that I've ever seen a more anxiously distraught expression in my life than what was on his face at that moment. He was frantically muttering to himself, unable to process what he was going to do in the next few moments of his life. For all we knew, they could be his last.

I felt so bad for him, that I almost said "Never mind, I will tell him." but I didn't.

Well, he did tell Chef Tony, and then he (Chef) called me over.

"Are you ready to kick someone's *censored*?" He asked.

"No." I answered.

"You realize that he just ruined your batter, right?"

"Yup."

"OK, go make another."

Kyle made a mistake today.

Just like I did last week.