Redemption tastes like ... hotdogs!

Screw Daniel Tosh and his Web Redemptions, I had the pleasure of realizing a real life one yesterday, courtesy of my current employer.

Some of you have heard the first part of this story, but for those who haven't, here goes.

I use to work for the Omaha Country Club in college. During my tenure, the club hired a new general manager, Luigi. None of us really like him. He ran the ship like Mussolini and with cutting precision. He was balding on the crown of his head, shorter stature and child bearing hips. He had a thick accent that was Italian to the core, and not the goomba Jersey Shore Italian, the Latin, somewhat French wanna-be Italian. He spoke with a smooth, condescendingly velvet dialect, smug without justification. And though he had to look up to most people, working with Luigi you always felt talked down to, which is a fantastic work environment, especially at a place like the Omaha Country Club, where you got enough of that attitude from the members.

As you can imagine all of this sat really well with a kid like me who had been in trouble for insubordination before even knowing what the word meant. One day Luigi was being overtly commanding and he kindly instructed me to bring him his lunch and some water. Being the smart mouth I was at that time, and my tolerance with this man boiling over, I looked at him and said "You know what Luigi, one of these days I'm going to be rich. And when I am, I'm going to come get a membership at this club, just so you have to serve me!"
He looked "down" at me with the most boorish tone and snapped, "I will never serve you."

Fast forward about a decade to last night. My employer created a fantastic family picnic event for all of its employees, complete with a barbeque-esque food spread, tons of kids activities, Hall of Fame major league baseball players, raffles, giveaways and tickets to the Home Run Derby. One of the many reasons I love my job, but I digress. The event was masterfully orchestrated by plan!tomaha, and went off without a hitch.

After getting my wife and kids loaded up with dinner I walked over to the food line again to get mine. When who should catch my eye, but my former boss, Luigi. Same reflective dome, same arrogant attitude, very very different attire. I'm sure he is a catering director or something for plan!tomaha, but the stained white polo and khakis likely overpriced for the occasion we're an ironic outfit from the double-breasted over-compensation power suits I was use to seeing him wear.

I'm sure that he didn't recognize me from my insignificance a decade ago and I bet he is still trying to figure out how the heck this stranger knew his name, but imagine my satisfaction when I exclaimed, "Hey Luigi, we're out of hotdogs!"

I got served.

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