"So there's the twenty-yard line marker!" bellows the band director.
"Yes," I say. I don't have time for this right now, or ever. "Right there. On the twenty-yard line."
"Where was it during rehearsal?"
"Stacked up with all the others, I assume."
The fact that I am walking in the opposite direction doesn't dissuade him. "You understand how important that is for us? The kids have to know where they are on the field."
"Look, I told you I was sorry. At least we found it, right?"
And I am sorry. I pity the guy.
He thinks I actually care.
