I catered dinner to My Captain’s firehouse again tonight. A fantastic Chicken Pot Pie, and an out-of-this-world Pineapple/Apple Cobbler. (I’m nothing, if not humble in my culinary abilities)
As usual, I made twice as much as they could possibly eat. (Although it’s been insinuated that maybe Lt. Tom might snack around the midnight hour and clean up the leftovers.)
The thing about having leftovers at My Captain’s firehouse…they don’t have any complete sets of Rubbermaid, or Tupperware containers. I took out everything on all three shelves devoted to food storage, and nothing, NOTHING matched. No lid would mate with a single box. How in the world do they manage to do that??! I mean, I could see losing one or two lids, but to have a hundred lids that do not fit a single bottom….HOW? And talk about a mishmash of shapes…I even found a diamond shaped box (with no lid, mind you). I ain’t ever seen one of those! No-sirreee Bob!
(I have no idea why I just started writing in a country voice.)
I was astounded that these guys are in such a state. These are the men who’s engineering feats at many rescue sites have won critical acclaim.
These are the men who can shore up the nastiest of collapse situations (They were at 9/11 at the Pentagon, and the Oklahoma City Bombing, and Hurricane Katrina, to name a few).
These are logical, mathematically-minded, structural-engineering-experienced fire and rescue professionals.
And they cannot manage to keep a single plastic food storage bin married to its lid.
My Captain came into the kitchen while I was bemoaning the fact that such capable men are so incapable of such a minor task.
He raised an eyebrow and smirked, reached over me to the next cupboard, opened it, took some Saran Wrap out, deftly wrapped the lid-less Rubbermaid container I had just emptied leftover potpie into, and said matter-of-factly,
“Adapt and overcome. You can complain about it, or you can do something about it.”
Man I wish we had politicians like him.