I have a job created for members of society full of youthful idealism. Yet, while helping people, I do some pretty selfish things. For example I told teenage gutter punk junkies shooting up outside ye olde local grocery store to take their addictions "into the shadows." That infraction is minor compared to my daily crowing gem of selfishness. I call this act of egotism The Race for a Valid Croissant.
Every morning a local grocery store comes to our center and drops off day-old carbohydrates. After being abandoned on store shelves for days only a handful of croissant are delivered in decent shape. Even though these softy buttery pastries are forever banned from the grocery store they can still reach their full potential of deliciousness. It only takes 22 seconds in the microwave for the French confection to start a viable second life.
While my fellow office staffers fetch cups of coffee and comment on last nights TV programming, the floor staff dutifully care for the baked goods. When the center opens and 9 am the race begins. The homeless women line up to get nice snack after a long night. I on the other hand, stand behind the counter poking croissant with a fork. Because the croissants are a bit on the old side it takes time to find MY pastry. The perfect croissant has a delicate balance of flakey softness. When I find my hidden treasure -usually buried beneath a roll -nothing can separate my croissant from its fate.
I turn into an evil croissant driven demon. I have been known to cut off homeless women in the food line, or semi jokingly threatens to trip old ladies. I saw one young lassie eying the last croissant, I freaked out. Clammily I challenged her; I said she could have MY croissant after a rock paper scissors dual. With one quick scissors throw I was victorious and I grabbed MY croissant. The woman left with head hanging and a nasty scone. I am now known to that one lady as "champ."
I wish I could quit you,