POTLUCKS......i.e. FORCIBLE COOKING

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I don't really cook.

I cook baked potatoes in the microwave. Chicken breasts in the ovens. Noodles on the stove. Pizza.

and Grilled Cheese.

It's not that I can't cook. Years and years ago I used to make quiche and spare ribs and meatloaf but that was when I was young and trying to be the perfect girlfriend. But I burned out on that and started buying carry-out and scraping it into pretty dishes.

Eventually both the relationship and any attempts at culinary skills went down the drain.

For a while I dated someone who LOVED to cook.

He would buy the food, cook it up and I would wash the dishes and sweep the floor.

When that relationship ended the only thing I really missed were the gourmet meals.

And his dog.

Fast forward a few years and I am working at a high-end Department Store.

Selling clothes. Which is a whole other story in itself.

You see, I'm not really into buying clothes.

Sure, I like nice quality things but I kinda feel like once I have my basics together and a few seasonal trend items....I don't really need or feel the desire to go looking for more.

So my friends were amazed that I worked somewhere that catered to such an exclusive clientele.

But I needed a job and I'm actually good with the public.

Working at this posh store, I was required to keep a contact book of customers and call them and send postcards about the merchandise. I did very well. Probably because I was very honest.

When my clients would come out of the dressing room and I wouldn't lie.

I had been known to exclaim "No! No! No!"

and then run off and bring back what they really needed.

Sometimes I would KNOW that something was going to look bad but I'd let them try it on.

So they could see it for themselves. And then I'd bring them what flattered and fit them.

I always thought it was better to let them leave with nothing than have them go home with something that wasn't right. That was how I built my contact client book.

A book filled with notes on what they liked and cared about.

We did a lot of cross-selling in the store.

I would go to from Department to Department gathering together shoes, handbags, jewelery, everything to make a complete outfit. I would get calls from customers asking me to pick out gifts for their family members which meant that I got to know everyone throughout the store.

One day one of my co-workers/friend from my department was up in "Men's" and this arrogant salesman, Dave came up to her.

She said that they got to talking and he said to her that I didn't like him. She said that wasn't possible!

"She likes everyone!"

"Not me" he replied. "In fact I think she HATES me"

"Nooooooo,  and why would you think that?"

So he told her that he had said to me that the only good cat was a road-kill cat.

She said that she looked at him and just said -

"Yeah, you are right. she hates you."

So why am I taking about clothes and this job, when this is about forcible cooking?

Because every month the employees held a potluck lunch.

Everyone had to bring a dish and then the employees would "buy" a lunch.

The money went towards our "Christmas Party".

I didn't like doing it but I always brought something and the weird thing is everyone always liked my creations.

Probably because I always dumped a lot of cheese into my casseroles.

Or poured bacon grease into my Potato Soup.

and stirred in Chocolate Chips into the brownies.

At one of these lunches we sat at the long tables eating each others food and Dave sat at another table, gobbling down my casserole. He was loving it and said

 "This is DE-licious! Who made this and what is it called!?"

and even though I always ignored him, I spoke up.

I made it!

and I call it "Cat Hair Casserole"

All co-workers burst out laughing and he turned red, got up and dumped his plate in the trash and left the room.

I think that was probably the only time that I really ENJOYED cooking.

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