Ahhhhh yes. Good old tormenting of the newbies. I also like to tell them to get a twelve pound cornish game hen and then watch them dig through the cooler.
But you just can’t beat the comedic quality of the classic, the-district-manager-is-coming-and-you-need-to-make-sure-that-none-of-the-salad-dressings-settle.
WHAT? You think that we care about your groceries?
I have heard (on the History Channel, a.k.a. “The Hitler Channel”) that the origin of the term “sniper” is one who could manage to shoot a snipe, from the days of flintlock guns. The guns were not necessarily all that accurate and snipes are small and very wary targets. Sniping, being a sniper, or snipe hunting was therefore something difficult to do that takes a great deal of stealth, skill, and practice. I would imagine that the current version of the snipe hunt descends from sending some greenhorn shooter out to go shoot and bring back a snipe. If they succeed, great; if not, at least you’re keeping them usefully busy for a while.
We called it a “Left-handed Smoke Shifter,” since the alliteration sounded neat. My Scoutmaster went ahead and built one (it was convertible to right- or left-handed) so he could watch the pranksters’ (usually other Scoutmasters) reactions when the Tenderfoot came back with it.
Webster’s gives the same Scandinavian root for both the bird and the occupation, so History may have gotten it right on.
I lead a boring life of relative unimportance. Really.
I’m transferring to Vtech next summer to complete a C.S. degree. I’ll probably be spending more time copulating with the female student body than eating birds.
Two wrongs do not make a right…but three lefts do.