I worked as a custodian for the Vancouver Masonic Center (formerly "Temple") for two years, between the beginning of 2008 and the end of 2009. That was the job title, at least -- basically a janitor -- except it ended up involving various aspects of staging and facilitating events, like dances, wedding receptions, and dinners.
One particular evening nothing much was happening. There were two Lodges of Masons using the building to hold their Lodge meetings. They would both have "refreshments" afterwards (food and alcohol) but I'd already set up the rooms, with the requested number of tables, seating, settings, and so forth. In-house catering had already prepared their respective cold-plate orders, neatly arranged in the kitchen cooler, which I would put out just as their meetings ended. Everything predictably to schedule. Yawn.
Then the pizza delivery kid showed up. That was different, for these Lodges at least. One was, one of the largest, and, the richest that used the building -- The Scottish Rite -- they didn't order pizza. The other Lodge was small, and too stingy to order pizza. They always met on the same night as Scottish Rite and arranged things so they could raid their leftovers.
The name on the order was a Mason who's Lodge wasn't even meeting, but it was addressed to come to the building. I was able to confirm that the little Lodge didn't order the pizza. That left the big boys, who were all in their meeting. I would go and ask the Tyler -- the Mason who stood guard at the door of the Lodge room.
I took the kid in the elevator up to the second floor, where the Scottish Rite had its Lodge room. I explained they would be in the room behind closed doors, with a Mason standing guard in the lobby. No. ... They were all of them milling about the lobby in full costume for some Biblical-thing they had been acting out as part of some Masonic hoo-haw. They appeared to be taking a break from their solemn proceedings. And look, there was the Master of the Lodge, dressed up as King Solomon, chatting up a vizier-or -something.
Everyone in the lobby had certainly noticed us, though no one seemed very concerned. We made our way to the Master, and laid out the problem of the pizza order.
[caption id="attachment_412" align="alignleft" width="230"]
As far as I can recall, King Solomon used a Palm Treo 650.[/caption]
Up close, the Master's King Solomon finery, like everything else about the place, wasn't so fine, but he thought he knew what had happened, and took out his cell phone, and made a call. "Doug, there's a pizza here. ... Uh-huh, uh-huh."
The pizza was supposed to be delivered to this other fellow's home but he forgot to say that when he ordered, and because he ordered pizza for his lodge's refreshments, the pizza was naturally delivered to the Masonic Centre.
Back in one of the elevators, the kid, clearly dazed and confused, didn't even look at me, I don't think, just asked, "What was that?"
I do not remember what I might have said to him. Whatever it was, it was wrong, because I didn't know then, and I still don't.
One particular evening nothing much was happening. There were two Lodges of Masons using the building to hold their Lodge meetings. They would both have "refreshments" afterwards (food and alcohol) but I'd already set up the rooms, with the requested number of tables, seating, settings, and so forth. In-house catering had already prepared their respective cold-plate orders, neatly arranged in the kitchen cooler, which I would put out just as their meetings ended. Everything predictably to schedule. Yawn.
Then the pizza delivery kid showed up. That was different, for these Lodges at least. One was, one of the largest, and, the richest that used the building -- The Scottish Rite -- they didn't order pizza. The other Lodge was small, and too stingy to order pizza. They always met on the same night as Scottish Rite and arranged things so they could raid their leftovers.
The name on the order was a Mason who's Lodge wasn't even meeting, but it was addressed to come to the building. I was able to confirm that the little Lodge didn't order the pizza. That left the big boys, who were all in their meeting. I would go and ask the Tyler -- the Mason who stood guard at the door of the Lodge room.
I took the kid in the elevator up to the second floor, where the Scottish Rite had its Lodge room. I explained they would be in the room behind closed doors, with a Mason standing guard in the lobby. No. ... They were all of them milling about the lobby in full costume for some Biblical-thing they had been acting out as part of some Masonic hoo-haw. They appeared to be taking a break from their solemn proceedings. And look, there was the Master of the Lodge, dressed up as King Solomon, chatting up a vizier-or -something.
Everyone in the lobby had certainly noticed us, though no one seemed very concerned. We made our way to the Master, and laid out the problem of the pizza order.
[caption id="attachment_412" align="alignleft" width="230"]
As far as I can recall, King Solomon used a Palm Treo 650.[/caption]Up close, the Master's King Solomon finery, like everything else about the place, wasn't so fine, but he thought he knew what had happened, and took out his cell phone, and made a call. "Doug, there's a pizza here. ... Uh-huh, uh-huh."
The pizza was supposed to be delivered to this other fellow's home but he forgot to say that when he ordered, and because he ordered pizza for his lodge's refreshments, the pizza was naturally delivered to the Masonic Centre.
Back in one of the elevators, the kid, clearly dazed and confused, didn't even look at me, I don't think, just asked, "What was that?"
I do not remember what I might have said to him. Whatever it was, it was wrong, because I didn't know then, and I still don't.
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