What a reception!

What a reception!

By Mark Leitheiser

Recently, Sweetums informed me that I had volunteered to join her and Grandma MaryLynn to serve food at a wedding reception for some dear family friends. I was more than a little surprised and alarmed, since the formal etiquette at most wedding receptions is well above my pay grade.

I felt better when I learned this was to be more of a laid-back, come-and-go type reception, similar to a graduation party. Well-wishers could come at their leisure, give a hug, say a couple of nice things, eat a free meal, wash it down with free beer and leave. Given the extravagance of many of today’s receptions, the come-and-go method makes a lot of sense and it saves a lot of cents too. In short, this was a fine idea for a wedding reception and I was proud to be part of it.

As we approached the clubhouse, I was prepared to kill the evening sitting in the back of the kitchen watching the ladies work but they had other ideas. You can imagine my shock when I learned I was actually expected to do something other than sip the free beer and fill the obvious role of eye candy for the ladies.

After careful consideration of my limited skills, I was given my first job: I was to keep the potato chip bowl filled. Sensing a lack of confidence in my coworkers, I made up my mind: there would be no lack of potato chips at this reception. The world may run out of oil, natural gas and sunlight, but by god, there would be no lack of potato chips at this reception!

Yet, with the food and chips piled high and waiting, a curious social ritual took place: nothing happened. No one, it seemed, was willing to be the first to load their plate with delicious food. This social pause starts early. I have seen it countless times in my classroom. No one wants to be the first to bring an assignment to my desk, yet when one student musters the courage to do so, suddenly, nearly every student follows their lead.

For reasons I cannot explain, that same, follow-the-leader mentality was in plain view at this reception. I guess old school habits are hard to break. Finally, a few brave souls decided their appetites were more important than social constraints, so they bravely stepped up to the counter, filled their plates with delicious food (especially potato chips) and the flood gates were open. Like sheep, the crowd suddenly lined up at the counter to fill their hungry bellies. The reception had begun.

The sound of the many guests, fueled by the warm haze of alcohol and food, soon filled the room with a friendly buzz. Old friends, long lost relatives, introductions made on the spot. It didn’t matter. The next couple of hours were filled with old stories, half-truths and the general hub-bub of a crowd of friends and relatives, genuinely glad to see one another for a limited amount of time.

For my part, this was a time to catch up with former students. Sophomores with zits and braces were suddenly men and women introducing their spouses and children while telling me about their careers. They couldn’t remember to bring a pencil to class back in school but they could remember- often to my embarrassment- what I said and did in English class 30 years ago. I’m sure they knew how much I enjoyed seeing them. I’m sure they did not know how much they reminded me that it was all worth it. That they are the reason I continue to get up and go to school each day.

As the evening progressed, I received my first promotion. I was to help keep the trays filled with buns as well as the bowls with potato chips. Although daunting in its complexity, I felt I was up to the task, which wasn’t as easy as you might expect.

You see, the potato chips came in one flavor only, but the buns came in white and wheat, which created a bit of a conundrum for a fellow like me. While contemplating a plan of attack, I was quickly brought to my senses when Grandma MaryLynn blew by me with a bag of wheat buns. I needed to up my game.

Before long, when I was able to demonstrate clear mastery of potato chips and buns, the brain trust decided to go for broke and before you could say, “I love these chips and buns!” I found myself replenishing salads (three different kinds!) and cake too. I was working to my full potential now, and loving every minute of it.

As the evening wore on, a curious thing happened: I found myself encouraging folks to take an extra helping of everything, especially, potato chips. So this is what it feels like to be a politician: “Go ahead, take all you want. Eat up!” What did I care? I wasn’t paying for it. I may have started the evening as a bit of a green horn, but by the end, I was ready for Washington D.C.

And the end did come. About five long hours after our arrival, it was time to clean up. It didn’t take long to find my role here. After washing dishes, I was directed, like a pack mule, to haul the garbage bags out to the dumpster which was hiding in the darkest spot on earth.

In the end, it was a great evening and I was happy to have been part of it. And, it must be noted, we ran out of only one food item: potato chips. Of course. As I limped to the car, I smiled at the night and cried, “What a reception!”