Mom on the Run: Take me out to the concession stand!

It’s six p.m. and I look around. We’ve been at set-up for about 45 minutes with Tina, the Athletic Boosters rep who, bless her heart, is here every single night to get things going for the hockey moms, or cheer moms, or soccer moms who work the concession stand. Now the baseball game is about to start, and I think we’re ready.

Patty’s out back working the grill, finally. It was a team effort to get it lit today, the breeze and the igniter conspired against us. But eventually we prevailed (thanks, Mike, we know it was your very presence that kicked it off!), and now Patty’s out there, flexing her grilling muscles. We have an insulated carrier full of piping hot Chick-Fil-A sandwiches, too, but for some baseball fans, a hot dog is the only appropriate dinner.

Emily, Lori’s daughter, is working again tonight. She’s helpful and friendly, and, currently, crippled, so she and her crutches are propped in the corner, out of the way. She’s got all her tools arranged just so: hot dog and hamburger buns, latex gloves and aluminum foil. Lynda’s there next to her, and the two of them are ready and waiting for Patty’s first batch off the grill. They’ll bun and wrap the burgers and dogs and move them to the preheated warmer.

Lori’s leaning to my right, by the small cooler of Powerade. “Red, orange, yellow, or blue?” We’ll be asking all night, I know, filling orders. It’s hot and humid out, and I’m sure we’re going to be reaching into that cooler a lot over the next few hours. I look to my left, assess the stock in the big cooler. It’s completely full, every inch of shelf space taken. Somebody rightly anticipated tonight’s temperature! The whole bottom shelf is water, which will go fast. Iced tea is front and center -- excellent, that’s popular -- and I’m glad to see a full half-shelf of Diet Coke. We really go through it, and Diet Coke drinkers get unhappy when we run out!

My own preferred station is the cash box. My first job ever was with People’s Drug Store, and in the ‘80s banks were extremely particular, so we cashiers had to make sure every bill was facing the same way, in order of denomination, and neatly stacked. It’s deeply ingrained in me, and it gives me shivers when people stuff money into the till willy-nilly, mixing fives in with tens, facing George any old which way. So I do the money. I’m relieved to see three rolls of quarters tonight; it’s always challenging when we run out and I have to beg people to round up their purchase: “Want to add two Tootsie Pops to that and make it an even two bucks?” Not tonight!

The candy is arrayed on the counter in front of me, chocolate and Skittles on my right, Air Heads and Ring Pops on my left. Lori leans over and pokes a Reese’s cup. “What do you think?” she asks. “Should we move them to the fridge? We can leave out a sample of everything.” We turn and look at the fan behind us. It’s blowing right over the chocolate, but … “Yeah,” I agree. “Especially the Reese’s and Hershey bars. They’re going to melt fast.”

The game is just about to start and our first rush is over; we’ve got until the end of the first inning to relax and catch up. “Just a few minutes on the burgers,” Patty says, coming in with her first tray of hot dogs. Lynda takes it from her and she and Emily swing into action.

I lean forward, elbows on the counter, scanning for people coming our way, crumpled dollar bills in hand. But then -- oh! The Star Spangled Banner! Quiet! I jerk back up, Emily puts down the hot dog, and we all face the flag, hands over our hearts. Play ball!