"I'm Hotdogacus."
Tuesday, 24 July 2007
Remember ages ago I was moaning on about how the complex manager had decreeded that instead of any leftover hot dogs going to the working security staff, the guy who was selling them must throw them away instead? In other words, security aren't even good enough to qualify for trash food.
Well, thankfully, the hot dog kid (for it is he) ignored this and helped us out when he could. However, a free dog has become an increasingly rare bird, quite simply because of late they're bloody popular. They sell out - 100s - all the time.
Well, tonight, finally, he had enough left for us each to have one. Great. We'd hit closing time and I double-checked with him again and, yes, he'd kept some back. So, I'm walking towards the main bar and just before I get there I see this little kid crying his eyes out. He's like five or six, and sitting on the floor, bawling, about ten feet from the hot dog stand. "What's the matter mate?" I ask.
"I wanted a hot dog," he said, holding out a little hand full of the right money, "But the man says they don't have any left."
Well, by now a few of the other security team had gathered around, and all had taken this in. And suddenly, it was like a scene out of Spartacus. First me:
"No, look," I said, to the hot dog kid, "Let him have my hot dog..."
"No," said Popeye (the newest guy), "Let him have mine..."
"No," said another, "He can have my hot dog..."
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And on and on. The thing was, Popeye was insistent that he didn't want his so he gave it up. The kid was thrilled, and happily handed over his £2.50.
Meantime, the hot dog kid had miscounted and after we'd locked up I got to eat two. Result. Everybody wins. Capitalism at its finest.
posted by Sheamus @ 3:00 am
