The Incident

Today was going to be a normal day.

Or so I had thought.

My boss had bought a home brewing kit to make beer and had made it the day before. So I came in to work this morning with a ten gallon jug of homemade beer on my work station. The dark liquid churned as the top bubbled releasing the gas. I could see the yeast and the hops in the stormy stew.

Around 11 am, I decided to restock some of the banana bread by the register. I was placing the bread in the display basket when I heard a crash and the sound of what I had thought was breaking dishes. I glanced at the kitchen and saw everyone bolting to the pastry kitchen. At first, I thought that maybe some of my ramekins had been knocked over. But I saw someone grab a mop, and from the hot line I noticed that the giant glass jug was no longer where it had been. As I neared the pastry kitchen, I could smell that sour smell of yeast.

The jug had exploded and the whole floor was flooded in partially made beer. Shattered glass were what remained of the jug. We started to clean up and I was a bit disappointed at having to throw away the chocolate ice cream that I was so excited to finish making, but having glass in someone's meal was a lot worse. Everything was a mess. Glass and hops were found even at my boss desk, which was in the corner of the kitchen.

I examined my cooling rack and had noticed this one shard of glass. It was sharp and was curled. Then it dawned upon me that that shard could have hit me in the eye or severed an artery if I had not decided to step out of the kitchen when I did.

The jug, you see, was directly in front of me as I worked. It sat a little more than arms distance away from my usual spot. I was taken aback and had a hard time getting back into the groove. Especially with the thoughts that I could have been seriously hurt. I was grateful. I am still grateful nothing happened.

I told my boss: "No more home brewing for you."

"No," he replied, still suprised by the incident, "not even at home."