I Don't Even Get a Pension

Grilling used to be a manly job. Something that only the Principal did, and we only ever had hamburgers/steaks/hotdogs/chicken breast/pork chops when he was home to do battle with the grill.

But I'm older and taller and older now, and am generally considered to be fire-capable, so it's my job to handle the grill now.

This is not a good thing.

We have a gas grill- that is, there's a metal canister underneath and when you turn the knobs to Light I can smell gasoline- not a briquette grill. This should make cooking food fairly simple. It's not. Because our gas grill is also an old grill. The things inside that shouldn't come apart are rusted/burned through and mostly held together by old charred meat and grease. It would be disgusting if you could tell anymore what's metal and what's not.

Lighting it is the most exciting part. First, as I already said, you turn the knobs to Light. Then, standing well back, you carefully light one match. The grill is now hissing like an enraged rattler and will remove your fingers from your hands if you let it. Still standing well back, line the match up with the gaps in the grill. Then carefully throw or drop it. If you throw it, you risk setting the yard on fire or putting the match out, neither of which is the result you're after. If you drop it, be prepared to pull your hand back very quickly. Remember the rattler metaphor.

When the lighted match reaches the interior of the grill, fire will spurt out of the sides, bottom, and top of the grill. It's exciting, in a it's-a-good-thing-the-fire-warden-doesn't-know-about-this way. After the fire has sullenly retreated, you throw the meat onto the hot spots (you can have two pieces of meat on that grill for the same amount of time and if you don't know where to put them one of them will be black and one of them will barely be thawed) and slam the lid down. Every time you turn the meat with the spatula (iron, with a handle that isn't long enough) you will risk your meal and your knuckles. When you remove the meat and turn the gas off, the fire will live on, devouring the grease I mentioned before. Close the lid. It'll go out eventually. Probably.

And for this, I don't get a medal. I don't even get a pension. Sometimes I don't even get leftovers.