Food For Thought

Once upon a time I spent $300 on pizza. 

I still sometimes wonder what the people at Pizza Hut thought when I called and asked for 30 pepperoni pizzas--ASAP.

"Like, do you think you could have those in 30 minutes?" I asked all innocent like, as if this was the first time in my life I had ever done anything last minute--like karma owed it to me to get those pizzas delivered fresh and ready in one minute per pizza.

"Uhh...sure," said the pizza man who suddenly wished he was paid on commission. 

But this story is not about the pizza man. I never even met the guy. I was far too busy driving across town to find the only place in Arizona that sold frozen churros in the big box. 

See, I was in charge of organizing the food and drinks for the end of the year, yearbook signing party. 

My advisor said, "Alec, Chesca, you've got food and drinks. Make sure there's something for the class to eat.... Go."

She was mad at us I think. Probably because I did Physics homework in her class.

Moving on.

What would people want to eat while signing yearbooks? Chesca and I asked ourselves.

"Probably a churro," I said. 

"And something cold, Like Jamba Juice," someone suggested.

And pizza, well that was just a given. 

So I bought a lot of churros. And I ordered a lot of Jamba. And I tried desperately to get people to donate pizza.

But the thing is, it's hard to get people to donate things when even you don't believe in your cause.

The thing is, 'Our yearbook staff is trying to raise money by throwing a big party so we can have more color in next year's book', just doesn't ring a bell like 'Starving kids in Africa', you know. 

So it was the night of the big party, and we had no pizza. 

In order to avoid the pending tragedy, I ran some quick numbers in my head and dialed up Pizza Hut.

Math:

Dinner for 60 hungry yearbook kids = 120 slices.

Plus, dinner for another 3000 potential party kids = 120 slices.

30 pizzas with 8 slices each = 240 slices.

Personally, I thought the math was solid.

But I forgot to factor in one important variable.

y = Students who have already paid $4 to come inside and the the yearbook they have already paid $45 for, aren't exactly anxious to cash out $2 per slice on this stupid yearbook program.

(4 +45)y x 3000 - (300 + 50 + 150) = $500 deficit. 

And my yearbook advisor was furious.

And she made me walk around the school with the pizzas asking people if they wanted to buy a slice. 

Like a street vendor. 

Like a humiliated, dejected street vendor. 

So, naturally, I walked around the school with the pizzas encouraging people not to buy a slice--not to spend any money on anything at all. 

Because it wasn't fair for her to be mad at me. And because the street vendor thing was just ridiculous. And because, honestly, I've always been better at financial advising than salesmaning. 

And so by the end of the night, we were giving boxes of pizza away for 50 cents.

Because we had way too much pizza--

Like 30 boxes too much pizza. 

---------

Day one of the Family Reunion reminded me of this story.

I'm not exactly sure why.

Maybe it's because left over from tonight's dinner are two and a half (out of three) pork loins. 

Which is not to mention the half a tub of broccoli salad, the remaining pound of fruit salad, and the 365 hamburger buns. (This family likes side dishes. Side dishes and bread.)

Luckily, this time no one asked me to take the pork out and try to sell it to the neighbors.

Nah, we're just going to try to find an orphanage on the way home.

And if that doesn't work, I'm sneaking it to Tucson. I think that pork will feed me through the rest of my college career.

Personally, I think that's a much happier ending. 

Until tomorrow, this is Alec, reporting slightly less than live, from somewhere not near a Walmart at all.

Over and out.