Trouble

• Houston: 10 [Game Suspended]
• Nats: 10
• Sold: 72 beers, 65 peanut/Crackerjack

The band Cake has a line in a song: "I don't that much about Cinco de Mayo/I'm not really sure what it's all about." I'm with them. What is it really, except a marketing opportunity for beer companies? I even heard recently that it's more of a big deal in the U.S. than it is in Mexico, owing to the advertising efforts of Corona brand beer.

A couple of things made this another blown day. First, I forgot my stadium ID (it, being without any identifying photograph, or even my name on it, simply functions as a lanyarded ticket for employees to get into the park) which led to a half hour delay. The security guard recognized me but wouldn't let me in though she's been checking me in for over a year, nor would she fake it because of her fear that the security camera would display evidence that I was showing an old library card instead of the featureless ID. Another security guy said he'd check with my manager in the room but wouldn't let me follow him down there, and he ended up talking to another vendor instead of my manager, and hadn't even gotten my name to drop, so no one came to retrieve me from this hassle.

Anyway, I eventually got in and headed straight up to the big kiddie groups in the upper deck with a double load of peanuts and Crackerjack to make up for the lost time. The second time-consuming hassle that I encountered there is better recounted in the statement I had to write up for management, copied below. It leaves out the high-point of the confrontation, when I addressed 150 schoolkids as a revolutionary, exhorting them that buying a bag of peanuts "is about Choice! You have the choice to buy if you have the money and the desire to buy! Do not let yourself be stifled by the forces that would quash capitalism! It is the American Way!" And raising my fist overhead. But I digress:

During the Nationals' day game on Tuesday, May 5, I transported a load of beer, peanuts and Crackerjack from room 138 up to the 400 level seats on the first base side of the stadium. I made sure to market to the large group of kids in the student group there, since my experience indicates that they maintain a healthy taste for peanuts and Crackerjack. So I'm in the midst of selling to this amiable, energetic bunch of schoolkids, calling out and making them laugh and lobbing softballs of product to them (amid a bunch of parent/teacher chaperones, who were similarly amused), when suddenly a single howling voice of protest bellows out from about five rows down and about 20 seats across.

"No peanuts or anything can be sold to this group!" she's shouting across the rows. "We have too many allergies and you can't sell in this section!" (This is paraphrased closely from memory.)

As a vendor working in my stadium, and not having been informed of any restrictions on selling anything in that or any non-premium section [beyond the standard enforcement of alcohol policy] I took umbrage at her declaration of these limitations, and so I ignored them. These kids were my customers, and they -- willingly brandishing their money (emphasis on their in this phrase) and being old enough to alert me to any allergies from which they might suffer -- were the rightful focus of my attention. I informed her of my intention continue my work, right there, where the customers happened to be.

I continued selling with some success, and then much to my surprise, I turned around to find this person has ambled over to loudly restate her disapproval of my selling to these students. To which I vigorously protested my right to do my job while at my place of work. She then declaimed her intention "to speak with somebody." Which she did.

Several points should be bullet-pointed here:

• There were other patrons, not in any way affiliated with this school, its staff, or its students, seated in these sections. They too had a right to buy from me, not limited by dictate of any single patron, no matter how loudly she may elucidate her claim to impromptu establishment of stadium law.
• At no point did any of the other parents/teachers/chaperones associated with this group express any consternation over my presence or the fulfillment of my duties.
• Also, at no point did my antagonist in this drama ever introduce herself, state her affiliation with this school group, or inform me of her position of authority among them, either while hawing across the upper deck, or in face to face contact. I found out in time and from a third party that she was the Principal of the Potomac Valley school. I think this is her.
  
• Her approach was purely confrontational, controlling. She never explained her reasoning below the level of an admonishing scold, never spoke to me but at me, as if that section of the stadium was her school and as if I were one of her students. I would not consider visiting her place of work, and dictating to her the terms of commission of her duties. She did nothing to show me similar respect.

Eventually, I was pulled aside by my manager, and spoke briefly to a representative from Levy, who seemed quite level-headed about the whole thing, listening to her complaint as customer (understood by me as necessary procedure in all cases) and simply telling me to stay out of that section for the rest of the game.

Fair enough; I willingly complied, never seeing her again that day. I did pass some of the students on the concourse and by the stairwell; they expressed interest in acquiring some Crackerjack for their very own but balked at the price (a rationale for passing I can respect), and seemed most interested in taking my picture with their cellular phones.