Cory was excited to work at the big stadium concert. His job was to take food backstage so that the stagehands and crew could eat. The challenge he did not foresee was getting past the security procedures.
Cory’s boss, Roxy, gave him a green wristband to get into the area. Cory grabbed a cart full of food and moved to the first checkpoint.
The security guard, notable for his bright orange trucker hat, stopped Cory. “Let me see your wristband.”
Cory flashed the green wristband.
“I’m sorry,” the guard said. “This area is only for those wearing yellow wristbands. I’m not supposed to let people with green wristbands through.”
Cory sighed, turned around and went back to his boss.
“The guard says yellow wristbands,” Cory said.
Roxy shook her head. “They always change these things.”
Cory took off the green wristband and replaced it with the yellow one. He walked back to the orange trucker hat checkpoint. “Let me see your wristband.”
Cory flashed his yellow wristband, and orange trucker hat waved him through. Cory understood how these big events worked. They hired people for the day and made the job easy. Yellow=yes, green=no.
Cory kept walking and was unexpectedly stopped at a second checkpoint by a woman wearing huge earrings that looked like old record albums. “Show me your credentials.”
Cory held up his wrist.
“Nope,” the woman said. “This area is for green wristbands.”
“But the last checkpoint was yellow,” Cory protested.
“Well, this one is for green.”
Cory sighed and turned back around, past orange trucker hat and went to his manager’s office. Cory told Roxy, “I need another green wristband.”
“What?” Roxy asked.
“The first checkpoint is yellow. The second one is green.”
Roxy shook her head and handed Cory a wristband. “We’re about to get yelled at by the crew for not delivering their food.”
“I know,” Cory said, “I’ll hurry.”
Sporting two wristbands, Cory rushed back to the orange-trucker-hat security guard.
“Whoa, whoa,” the guard said. “You can’t come through here. You have a green wristband.”
Cory stared at orange trucker hat. “But I also have a yellow wristband.”
“Doesn’t matter,” the guard said. “I was told no green wristbands.”
“I thought you were told to let through yellow wristbands,” Cory protested.
“I was told both,” Orange trucker hat said. “But when in doubt, I was told not to let people through.”
Cory almost raced past the guy, but he knew he’d never win. Orange trucker would tackle Cory. He’d get kicked out, and they would have to fire him. The stagehands would still never get their food.
Cory stormed off back to the office. Roxy was furious.
“Here,” she said, “Take my all-access pass. I’ll call the security manager and see what we can do.”
Cory took off his wristbands and put on the all-access pass. He raced back to orange trucker hat, who smiled at him.
“Hey, buddy,” the guard said. “Good to see you again.”
“Thanks,” Cory said. He flashed the all-access pass.
“Wait a second,” Orange trucker hat said. “Weren’t you wearing wristbands before? I’ll have to call my manager.”
“Actually, this food is for your manager,” Cory said quickly.
“Melanie?” Orange trucker hat asked. Cory tried to say “Melanie” at the same time as the guard, but it came out more like “Melody” because Cory had no idea who Melanie was. After an awkward second, Cory nodded.
“Oh, then go on through,” Orange trucker hat said happily. “I don’t want to keep her waiting!”