Divisive Action

The math was never so easy to do.

Summer is more relaxing than it used to be. In the early years of my marriage, my wife and I used to work for a Boy Scouts of America summer camp. It was fun, but it could also be stressful. It could also bring its own rewards.

The Scout Camp allowed for the making of many a fond memory, like midnight bombs, or meadow Dew, or punching a bear, even just bloody messes. It was all so much fun. Still, like with many things, where there is good, there is sometimes less desirable sides as well. One of those less desirable events was the end-of-the-season clean-up. This required us to pack everything up and store it away for the coming winter. It was always a monumentous undertaking (I know what I wrote). Not only did we have to get the campers, we also had to pack up every aspect of the camp supplies that could be stored away, but we also had to collect all of our personal stuff and make it go away. In fewer words (too late), we had to make it look like we had never been there—well, except for the man-made buildings.

Part of this end-of-season event required returning any food items that we can. Just wait. I know that sentence came off a little strange. When I state that we return food, I don’t mean that we send back used food items. What we do is send back any unopened containers. Now, how that is defined is very specific. For example: A box that contained several bags of cereal. Each bag is not the container. The parent box, that the bag came in, is the parent container. However, some smaller items that arrived to us in parent containers could go back. Admittedly, I did not know the system. However, my wife and the boss-man did. Now, the reason we sent back any food items we could was to get back any monies that we could. The local Boy Scout Council liked it when we saved money.

During this summer’s particular pack-away, I had a staff member who that knew if you were in the right place, at the right time, you got the best jobs—”best” being relative. Best and easy are not the same thing. I am not talking about easy jobs. I specifically stated “best”. One of the best jobs was the food return. It was one of the best because it took a long time.

Now, you may be thinking, “How is taking a long time to do a job make it the best?” Well, I’ll explain. See, loading up the heavy boxes, only takes a short time. And, most of the boxes aren’t heavy. They’re more awkward than anything. Then, once the boxes are loaded onto the camp truck, we had to drive down the mountain to meet with the Sysco* delivery man.

If the Sysco delivery man wasn’t there when we arrived, we had to wait. Usually, we had to wait. See, the entrance to our camp was dirt road that splintered off of a paved canyon road. The canyon is windy. To drive safely up it, the delivery diesel has to take some turns slowly. If he was there before us, fine. But, usually, we had to wait at least fifteen minutes—if not longer. And, we couldn’t go back up to our camp to wait, there are no turnaround points on our trail. This was strictly a waiting game.

Okay, now that the Sysco guy was there, whoever had the paperwork had to compare notes with the Sysco guy. This way, The Sysco dude would know what he was adding to his load—or if he could even take it back (sometimes, we would make an honest mistake).

Once notes were compared, the unloading-reloading began. The helpers would announce what they were taking off the camp truck and that they were putting it on the Sysco truck. The paper-holders would make their pencil marks on their respective papers and all would be well. After all was said and done, this process could take anywhere from two to four hours (the record that I was aware of was six hours). For all that time, it was about thirty minutes of labor and the rest was traveling in a truck on a dirt road and some waiting. This was a desirable job—because everyone else was constantly moving. They were packing and shifting and loading and moving and walking and shifting and loading and packing… Food return was a “best” job.

Long tangent, I know. But, it helps to understand what went down that last Saturday of camp.

My staff member (we’ll call him Rufus—because that’s what we called him) moved into position to be ready for the food return. My wife was in charge of the foodstuffs and asked me to help supervise because our Camp Director (that year) was pretty new to everything. Me and Rufus were camp veterans. We could help him with the food return. We were happy to oblige.

While waiting for the Sysco man to materialize, Rufus and I made a discovery. There, in the back of the pick-up truck, was a case of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. A WHOLE CASE!

Sorry. That was uncalled for. But, it was exciting to see a whole case.

A WHOLE CASE!

Again, apologies.

Moving on…

The camp had a shop for the Scouts to buy supplies, trinkets, bits & bobs, doodads, and snacks and stuff. What Rufus and I couldn’t figure out was how a case could make it through the summer unscathed. It was like finding the Ark of the Covenant, or something. It didn’t seem possible. Yet, here it was. Rufus and I knew that if it was on the truck there was no sense in asking if the staff could keep it (at the end of the year, any food that could not be returned was handed out to the staff. when you’re young and poor, it really helped). Also, the boss (Burt), seemed pretty serious about this situation. Very no-nonsense. We figured it was best to not even ask. Just lament the loss.

About halfway through the transfer, the Reese’s box was lifted, announced, and almost transferred.

“Wait. Nope. I can’t take that back.” Sysco man maybe saves the day.

“Why not? It’s unopened.” Boss-man Burt was confused. Rufus and I just exchanged hopeful looks. Then, for the next what felt like twenty minutes, Burt and Sysco dude discussed why it couldn’t come back. Eventually, the food return was done and Rufus, Burt, myself, and a case of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups headed back up the mountain.

The three of us sat in silence for quite a while. Rufus and I were almost too afraid to broach the subject of possibly keeping all those delicious peanut butter cups just for us. After all, this was a Boy Scout Camp. As staff, we were supposed to follow the Boy Scout Law. The first point of that law is Trustworthy. They were going to be handed out. If we were lucky, we would each get a pack of two. That would still be better than nothing…

“You know,” Burt began, “As far as anyone knows. That case of Reese’s was returned. Nobody knows it’s coming back.”

Rufus and I exchanged side-eye glances. We liked where this was going.

“I wonder…” Burt didn’t get to finish his thought. Rufus cut him off.

“Twenty-four each.”

“What..?” 

“There are two thirty-six count containers in the box. At thirty-six per container, that’s twelve each. Or, twenty-four for each of us. But, since each package has two per, that’s forty-eight Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Each,” rambled Rain Man.

“So, you’ve already done the math, I see?” The boss smirked.

“Yes. When it looked like we might get to keep it.” Rufus was wearing one of the biggest mischievous grins I have ever seen. So was I—on the inside (I was so proud).

“Okay. But, how do we keep the rest of the staff from knowing? I don’t wanna look like the bad guy here.” Burt had a legitimate concern. What I had was a Rufus. Rufus knew that mountain better than anyone. He had been a staff member at that camp longer than I had. His father was a National Parks Ranger and had taken him on countless drives through the area. Also, Rufus is that kind of guy that can get stuff done. One of those “I know a guy” kinda’ guys. Resourceful. I would trust him with anything.

The biggest trick would be to park the vehicle in a spot that would allow us to get the case out of the back of the truck bed without anyone spotting us. If fortune was on our side, everyone would be busy and nowhere in sight when we pulled up. It was not on our side.

As we neared the main lodge there were staff all over the place. Milling about as if they had no clue that there was actual work that needed doing. Burt was concerned about being found out. He warned us that if we were caught with the case of Reese’s we were to hand them over for distribution to the staff. We assured Burt that Rufus would handle it.

Immediately upon the truck coming to a halt, the staff began to swarm to it like locusts. “What can we help with?” “Is there anything that needs unloading?” Crud. They were going to spot the case. Fortunately, we had two Aces up our collective sleeves: One was the shell over the truck bed that mildly obscured view of any contents. The second was Rufus. When he wanted something, you weren’t going to keep him from it. And, as soon as the truck stopped, Rufus was out the door (I don’t know how, he was in the middle of the bench seat), at the back of the truck, had it open, and then was gone. There were some questions about why Rufus disappeared so quickly and if there was anything that needed done. I made reassurances and bodies moved into the camp lodge.

At some point later, the staff was gathered and while Burt and I were coincidentally standing next to each other. Without making a scene, Rufus materialized between us and began to speak. Not one of us looked at each other while Rufus whispered, “It’s done. Burt, yours are in your office. Batman, your wife has yours—she knows the deal.” Then, he just disappeared—like a wraith.

Now, some of you may be wondering why we tried so hard to keep all the Reese’s for ourselves. Well, because the ninth point of the Scout Law is thrifty.

*Sysco Corporation (short for Systems and Services Company) is an American multinational corporation involved in marketing and distributing food products, smallwares, kitchen equipment and tabletop items to restaurants, healthcare and educational facilities, hospitality businesses like hotels and inns, and wholesale to other companies that provide foodservice (like Aramark and Sodexo).