Stinky Cheese

I am out of a job.

Yes, despite my double bachelors from a relatively prestigious college, one in a hard science no less, I was released from the employ of a peddler of cheese. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

The funny thing is, while I put up a stink and demanded my rights, protested my downsizing to the high heavens and made the fat cat boss feel pretty bad about his squashing of the workingman, I probably should have been released long ago. If the cheese masters had even the remotest idea about the things that went on while I was under their umbrella and brought it to my attention, I couldn't really have fought. But they didn't know that, and the reason I got laid off wasn't a very good one.

I love to feed people. It's an offshoot of my general love of food as a concept. But somehow sharing that love with others makes things feel extra special. So while I reigned the steeds of the Italian Market, I invited those relatively near and dear to come and sit and have a sandwich or a slice of pizza, at little or no cost to themselves. It felt a mere extension of the policy in which employees were allowed to eat and drink whatever they might lay their hands to while working. A policy that was stretched to include non-working hours as well. In short, let us guess that I have not really bought groceries in a little over a year.

So it seemed only the logical next step that I ought to spread the bounty to the little folk, the starving artists of the city of Philadelphia. Joe Hill, a famous labor martyr, said to strike at the boss man every chance you got. One coke, one baguette, one hot roast pork with broccoli rabe at a time, I was doing my part for the united workers of the world. And I can only guess that the higher ups couldn't have been hurting that badly as things went on as long as they did.

But to the present. As they say, all good things must come to an end. The very day of my unceremonious release, done with no notice immediately after the holiday season, a friend and I remarked on how very much I should cherish the extremely cushy nature of my service industry career. My own personal form of Robin Hooding now over, I am surprised at the lack of emotion I feel towards this loss. But thinking it over, I suppose I've expected this to come for some time now, even if not for this reason.

Yea though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of the Cheese Shop.
I will fear no hunger; For I will find other delicacies;
My pan and my stove, they comfort me.
Unused by my hand in the presence of my now enemies;
Thou will now be anointed with oil; My pot will again runneth over.

It's the end of an era friends. Let us bow our heads in a moment of silence.