He seems to be tolerating it fairly well so far. I've lived in this state as long as I can remember, and I'm more of a wuss about cold than the Southern boy.
***
Yesterday at work was just insane. Regional Manager Man and HIS boss were visiting, but that ended up having a fairly small effect on my life. Head Boss Lady cleverly kept them schmoozing in the back all night, so all I had to do was make sure nothing actually went horribly wrong up front. It got kind of busy, but I decided to just tough it out because asking Jill for help would have also involved having Mark and Tim running amok. Apparently, they were pretty impressed with us.

(It's an interesting line of thought, actually. Schmoozing with higher-ups is one management skill I will probably never aquire. If for whatever reason Jill had decided to run the shift and left me to chat with the Big Men, it would have been all bad.

(Head Fazolian Overlord: So, tell us Ana, what areas of your restaurant do you feel need the most empowerment?

Ana: Uh, guh, durrrr.

HFO: I see. And what of your need to actualize your own potential?

Ana: I can count THIS MANY!

HFO: That's very interesting. Tell us about your plans for Competent Organization.

Ana: PENIS!!!)

Fortunately, they spent the evening with someone who could actually talk the talk, and left with all their delusions intact. Jill even said they told her they were very pleased with what they saw.

Five minutes after they were gone, we ran out marinara sauce.

(If I were telling this story in person, this is where I would have paused dramatically to let the full impact sink in for you. Maybe you should just pretend I did that.)

NO MARINARA. And, since the meat sauce is marinara with meat added, we had absolutely no spaghetti sauce at 7pm. Go ahead and insert another dramatic pause or two right there.

We went with it as best as we could. We pointed out the many benefits of alfredo, or a sandwich. A few people were disappointed, but no one got violent. And, The Overlords had just left, so they had no idea at all.

After all that, running out of Diet Coke by 8ish was almost anticlimactic. "Aw, come on, Karma. Is that really the best you can do? Bring it, Biznitch!"

I say 8ish, because I'm not entirely sure when that happened. I knew we were out in drivethrough, and I knew it was getting low in the dining room, but I didn't know that someone had gone ahead and attached a regular Coke to the Diet nozzle until someone came up and told me the Diet tasted too sweet.

D'oh!! I quickly put an "Out of Order" sign on the Diet, and tried to explain to the workers why you can't just put "something brown" in there if people are expecting Diet. A diabetic could have gotten really sick if I hadn't caught that.
***
Dammit. It's just now occurred to me that I was going to try and stop these multitopic entries. I've got such a nice totally anal-retentive setup for the archives now, and I've gone and screwed it up, right on the very first entry.

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