Ms Random Task 3.0

My final catering gig was at Timothy Eaton Memorial Church on St Clair Ave. It's much larger than its facade might boast, and I'm pretty sure the congregation is rich like filthy. In as far as Places for Prayer Solace go in the city are concerned, this one is totally pimped.

The occasion was a rather solemn and teary funeral for a thrill-seeking son of a wealthy family. He apparently passed away whilst on vacation somewhere, but I never got the full story. Everybody was being too proper about it. The pews were absolutely packed for the service with a line-up past the staircase to get into the reception hall.

As luck would have it, there was also a gut-wrenching stomach virus making the rounds not only our fair city, but in that very building. The piles of food and debris left in the wake of the mourners makes me nervous enough about picking up something nasty, but a couple of hours into the festivities, Public Embarrassment 101 took place in the far corner.

Mercifully I was on the other side of the room when the actual expongeance took place, but quite suddenly a gentleman vomited in a rather abrupt and violent fashion all over the floor. He made a hasty exit through the door behind him.

I worked a double and passed out on my friend's couch, only to feel dreadful the following morning. After a few minutes of tossing and turning - WAM - I turned my head in time to completely cover their living room floor in my partially digested dinner. Only you know this time, there was no janitorial staff. Just a very flustered, sleep-deprived me with a mop and a decades-old bottle of Pine Sol.

Do I miss catering? No I do not.