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June 01, 2006

cold beer, cold cuts

The following takes place one day before Memorial Day, a particularly busy day for the Deli.

ColdBeer is a fucking pro at slicing meat. The guy can do things with a meat slicer that would give your grandmother an aneurysm. All Deli workers know that the Cold Cut counter is his domain. In fact, when the guy leaves the Deli for more gainful employment, a moratorium will be set up in his absence.

Regular customers know not to mess with the guy. A genius. A real genius.

After delivering a perfectly balanced pound and a half of Prosciuto to a new customer, the customer exclaims, "Wow! That's right on the mark. You didn't even have to weigh it."
ColdBeer shrugs, "Can I get you anything else?"
The customer replies, "Yeah...give me 1.67 pounds of Oven Roasted Turkey."

Ouch. This guy has done his homework. The Oven Roasted Turkey is exceptionally moist, making it difficult to slice at any size. My curiosity piqued, I turn from a bowl of Chicken Salad.

Unplussed, ColdBeer replies, "How would you like it sliced?"
"Shaved. But not falling apart." the customer returns with slanted eyes.

Damn. This guy is laying down the gauntlet. Even waiting customers have forgotten their place in line to see if the rumors are true. Can ColdBeer pull through? Murmurs fall over the crowd. People begin to make small wagers on the outcome.

ColdBeer pops his knuckles, and grabs a towel. He cleans the blade on Slicer #2, chooses the proper gauge, and goes to work. Each slice summons ooh's and moans from the audience. The challenger's head falls slightly with each cut.

ColdBeer turns. Triumph shines on his face. His eyes sparkle. For a moment, the growing audience is silenced as he slowly places a pile of Oven Roasted Turkey on the scale...........1.63! Everyone exhales. The challenger looks on, victorious. A glimmer of relief in his eye. And then, ever so slightly with his left hand, ColdBeer places the last 3 remaining slices onto the scale. 1.67! 1.67! The audience erupts with applause: cheering, whistling, and stomping their feet.

ColdBeer's challenger defeated. He mumbles to himself, and sulks to the Bakery.
A perfect bag of Oven Roasted Turkey in hand.

Posted by davidm at 11:38 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack