My dad had always liked to mix foods in unlikely combinations. For example, his “refrigerator omelets” would include whatever leftovers in the fridge that caught his eye.

One day, when he was in his nineties, I took him shopping at our local market. He stopped at the hot soup bar and pointed at the pea soup.

Me: “Okay, Dad, you want some pea soup?”

I added one ladle of pea soup into a container.

Dad: “Eh, eh.”

He stopped me, pointing at the minestrone.

Me: “Dad, you want me to mix them?”

He nodded.

Me: “Pea soup and minestrone? Do you realize what you’re creating? Peanistrone!”

He nodded. 

I did it, but I’m not proud of it.

This story takes place a few years ago when I have just started working as a librarian. At the time, we have a policy that new hires are not sent out for coverage for the first six months.

I work for one of the worst managers in our library system. She has an awful reputation among her staff, and it is deserved. I am surprised when, in my second month, I am asked to cover at a branch that will increase my commute by about an hour each way. After asking, I just go and deal with it.

It’s a snowy day, but I make it on time. About half an hour after I get there, meet the staff, and sit down to start working, we get a call.

It’s my awful manager, demanding that the branch send me back as too many others called in sick that day. The woman I’m working with that day tells her off and eventually hangs up on the bad manager.

Despite the longer commute, I had a great day.