...until you realize you miss it. It has been a tradition you can say, that my family caters the Merced County Spring Fair's buyer dinner the Saturday of the fair after the Junior Livestock Auction in Los Banos. We've been doing this for as long as I can remember. At least since my grandparents were on the board of directors eons ago. And every year that I can remember, except last year, I've help out, or at least been there.
But you see, fall of 2003 I actually accepted a job at the fair where I worked in the office. I managed, organized, coordinated, corresponded. I loved it. I worked with fantastic people, during the off season and during fair time, and the relationships that were built. I loved the power that I had within the office and on the grounds. But there were a couple things that I didn't like so much. Like the commute, 30 miles each way...sometimes in the fog. It was a real doozy. And my boss. He started out great, then he meet someone, got married and turned into a jerk. Now he's divorces. He's back to the way he was, a good guy. Of course, it's a little too late for my sake.
And you know, I've moved on. I found a new job with new great co-workers. But something about going back there every year makes me a bit nostalgic. I see the people I used to work with and joke with, I see the directors that used to give me their full support and respect, and I see the fairgoers that keep the place running every year.
I get a bit sad. I start plotting and skeaming on how I can get back into the fair industry. I wondered if my old boss would fire his current staff and hire me back. How does one become a director? There is just something about the fair world that is so fascinating, so intriguing, so inviting that it's just hard not to want back in.
Everyone I used to work with that I ran into, which were a lot, stopped to give me a hug, talk about old times, catch up about new times. And a majority of them said, "Call me. We'll do lunch." Wouldn't that make you feel good? Not only do these people miss you from old days, but they want to continue that friendship outside of a work environment.
So, call me a "Carni" and tell me I'm weird for liking all of it. And I'll tell you yes, yes I am.
Now go find me a corn dog.