"Ladies and gentlemen, the McKimmon Center is now closed." That was my boss Jane speaking over the P.A. system, trying to encourage the Potboiler League to leave.
The McKimmon Center was a convention hall where I worked while going to college. Our crew set up tables, chairs, projectors, and whatever else clients needed for their shows. The Potboiler League was an organization of old fogie baseball players.
Their president was some cranky octogenarian whom Jane was avoiding. I had the honor of loading his equipment. He kept cursing his wife the entire time, and she never said a word back.