It was Thursday, Cattleman's Day at the Grand National. When Ranny drove in to work that morning, he didn't encounter anything as upsetting as the previous day's run-in with the pushy blond and her fancy rig, but he was in a foul mood anyway. He had stayed up too late last night with his porn magazine, and drank too many beers. Shoveling manure all day while nursing a hangover was not conducive to making Ranny one of the most cheerful workers that day.
When he clocked in, he checked the work assignments in the forlorn hope that he might be given a nicer job today, like delivering hay. But today, he was assigned to the horse show barn manure detail again, although to a different part than where Cynthia kept her horse. He was glad he wouldn't encounter her again, but had a twinge of fear that management suspected him of that trick with the horse turd, since they'd reassigned him yesterday afternoon right after that incident, and now again today.
But the mind-numbing work of shoveling manure into a wheelbarrow, then trudging with the load through the barn and down to the growing mountain of manure below the cow barns, was enough to push any worries out of his mind. He did the work robotically, as usual not joining in any of the banter between his fellow workers. When they were sure no supervisors were around, they passed along information: "Did you check out that cute little blonde jailbait in the wash stall, rubbing soap all over that big red bull?" "He doesn't know how lucky he is - I'd be getting it up if I had her soaping me down." "And that ass of hers in those tight jeans is one of the nicest in this place today."
So the morning passed uneventfully. At lunchtime Ranny fetched his lunchbox with the sandwiches he'd hastily thrown together that morning, pre-packaged slices of ham and of cheese on white bread. He had overslept so hadn't even taken time to spread mayonnaise on the bread, and had forgotten to add a Coke to his lunchbox. It was food, but the remnants of his hangover would have been better served with something like hot chicken soup, not dry sandwiches without any drink. Ranny's day was not going all that well, but it was about to get much, much worse.
The day's downturn towards disaster started innocently enough mid-afternoon, with an inspection of the premises by a couple of the higher-ups. Although many events used the facility throughout the year, the Grand National was the premier event held at the Cow Palace. It had been going on since 1946, and many of the staff had been working the event for so many years, that things tended to run smoothly with little oversight. But the president of the Cow Palace organization still liked to tour the whole facility periodically to ensure that everything was being kept to the high standards that exhibitors and spectators alike had come to expect.