Fun for all at the school fete

The email I have been waiting for has arrived. I was worried it wouldn't land in my inbox. After last year, it was possible I would not be asked back. It was the invitation to help out at the hot dog stall at the annual school fete.

Having worked fulltime or long part time hours while my children were at school, I was never very good at helping out in the classroom or at tuckshop. Time was always my excuse but in reality I just did not really like it nor was I very good at it.

I did offer once to do tuckshop at my daughter's school, and I found the experience so traumatic, I vowed I would never go back.

I also helped out once in 'groups' in one of my son’s classes. Regrettably, the teacher gave me maths groups. Maths is not one of my strengths and never has been. This was grade 6, and frankly, it was embarrassing.

I do however like to offer my services for the annual school fete. Our children’s primary school conducts a fete that is now a community event and raises such large sums of money that the entire school has been able to be air conditioned in full over the years, courtesy of the monies raised at the fete.

Last year my youngest child's year level was in charge of the hotdog stall. The previous year, his year level had been in charge of jam and I'd never made jam, and was still working full time so I went to a food wholesaler, bought the largest tin of strawberry jam I could find, and scooped it out into smaller jars with pretty gingham tops, and I think they sold the jars for $4 each. I'm a bad school mother type, but a great innovator and problem solver. I even got a present for donating the most jars of jam. Or perhaps I'm just plain lazy.

However, in hotdog year, I bravely volunteered to man (or woman) the hotdog stand for an hour and a half in the middle of the day. Peak. Hotdog. Buying. Time.

We had a great system. Someone took the money, and another person handed me a bread roll. I was responsible for placing the sausage into the bread roll. One of other volunteers was Harry’s teacher standing next to me. Harry being my youngest child by many years and having had the experience of the disgusting sense of humour of his older, teenaged brother, I can handle pretty much any young boy that comes at me with a rude or smart-arse comment. A young man had paid his money and appeared before me with a smug look on his face. 'Cock in bread' he said to me, loudly. I thought I didn’t hear correctly and said 'pardon'. He repeated the expression 'cock in bread'. Harry’s teacher made a sound like I thought she was having a small heart attack. I looked to my right and saw a group of boys giggling nervously nearby. This chap was obviously on a bet, and they were standing nearby so they could see the result. Unfortunately for them, they picked the WRONG mother for this.

It seemed like it was forever, but it was probably only 15 seconds and my mind was racing on how I could get this little twerp back and make him feel as uncomfortable as possible. And it came to me. Oh heavenly clever brain, thank you. You have let me down many times but this time you came through for me.

Every other adult nearby and on the stall was waiting for my response. I said as calmly as I could muster 'I think you should use some manners and say please'. He looked unsure of what to do, but then said 'please'.

I invited him to say the whole sentence ending in please and made him repeat it - 'cock in bread, please'.

My voice got louder 'so you want a cock in a bread roll, is that correct?'

By this stage, he realised the error of his ways and was looking rather nervous and said very quietly 'ah yes please'.

I put the hotdog sausage in the bread roll and then asked him in full voice 'would you like barbecue or tomato sauce with your cock in bread?'

'Tomato please ' he said in an even smaller voice.

I put the sauce on the hotdog and as I was handing it to him, I asked in a very loud voice 'so, you're going to eat this cock in bread?'

By this stage, the friends standing nearby were laughing at him and not with him, looking at him squirming with embarrassment.

He replied in the affirmative in a tiny little voice. I leaned over the counter as I handed him his hotdog and said very loudly 'well, I guess that makes you a little cock sucker'.

His gaggle of friends fell about laughing, every adult standing nearby cheered. High fives all around. I bowed. The young man turned a bright shade of crimson and slunk off.

It was one of the finest moments of my volunteering life and I hope that young man will think twice before ever again trying to offend an adult, female, volunteer at a school fete.

I am a very nice person, but don’t mess with me.

AMFYOYO


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