Sunday, May 30, 2010

The time I ruined the T-Ball fund raiser

So there we were at Daughter #2's first T-ball game of the season - I may be the oldest mother there.  As a matter of fact, I think I recognized one of the grandparents as being a classmate of mine in high school.  But I had on Daughter #1's clothes and my so-fucking-big-you-cannot-see-my-crow's feet sunglasses so hopefully no one picked up on it.  It, being the fact that Daughter #2 is considerably younger than the other children.  She's their sister by a different mister.  It's okay - I'm married to that mister.  Don't get all on-the-edge-of-your-seat excited on me here.

I had to walk over to a different building for a meeting (Yes.  A meeting).  And on my way back to the T-ball field, I was approached by a darling young mom, all cute in her cargo capri's, stretch T and flip flops, clearly sportin' a bun in the oven and she's all smiling and walking directly toward me and I can see the white envelopes in her arms and I'm on to her - she's handing out the fund raiser shit.  So I smile warmly and walk straight so she actually has a shot at catching me, and as soon as we are within hearing distance of each other, I put my hand in the air and say, "Oh HELL NO - don't EVEN give me one of those."  The look on her face was priceless.  I had clearly caught her off-guard and I didn't want her to think I was just some jaded old sour puss (figured she'd figure that out on her own soon enough) - so I lightened my spirit and added, "Can I just buy it out?"  She still looked confused.  Obviously her first rodeo with the T-ball fund raiser.  Poor thing.  I almost felt sorry for her.  Then I considered NOT filling her in on the bullshit baggage that comes with this fund raiser.  But then I felt sorry for her again - almost. 

So under my breath I said, "You know how much of a pain in the ass this fund raiser is, don't you?  You have one week to sell 10,000 frozen pizzas so your kid can get a free frisbee, then the shit doesn't even come in until the end of July.  So all summer long, you field phone calls from disgruntled purchasers - looking for their goodies that they bought with intention of feeding their teenagers all summer long - sad that it won't be here until the end of July.  Then you have to retrieve all the shit yourself - and then fucking deliver it to every person who ordered from you."  I'm pretty sure she thought she hadn't heard me correctly because she asked, "I have to pick this stuff up and deliver it to anyone that we sell to?"  That's right sister.  You SURE DO!  And guess what?  Last year the shit came in while we were on vacation and so we had to recruit another sucker to pick it all up for us.  And then we came back from vacation and were greeted by a deep freeze full of pizza and cookie dough.  We spent the next week delivering the shit.  What a nightmare.

She looked terrified.  I was glad.  I'm sick like that.  So I continued, "And then there was the year that the big kids got into ALL the tubs of cookie dough and ate one bite out of each of them so I actually had to PAY people who had purchased the shit and I ended up with $300 worth of cookie dough in my freezer."  She was totally freaked out at this time.  I know she rolled her eyes.  I could sense it.  I knew my job there was done, so I thanked her for the envelope and wished her luck!

I think I'll just order $50 worth of frozen shit for our deep freeze and go to the $1 store and buy the kid a bunch of cheap shit and tell her she won it.  She'll never know the difference.  And I'm happy that, as an older mother in the group, I was able to educate these novices.

1 comment:

  1. Ahhhhhh the fund raisers!! Sure...I'd love nothing more on a Sunday afternoon than to go wrap nine thousand burritoes and bag them by the dozen. Oh you better believe I'd love to head up the car wash, bake sale, flag banner give a way. I just can't breathe at the thought I can't stand inside the gym doors and hound people to death to buy a raffle ticket when all they want is to watch their kid play and get the hell out of there. Oh please oh please, let ME be the one to walk up and down the streets and strip malls to beg store owners to donate to our gig. I love it, I love every last little fucking bit of it!!! Which is why by the time my baby was a senior I avoided everyone as if they were foaming at the mouth HIV positive and didn't answer my phone. Emails???? Sorry, I didn't get that, my computer is acting up again...Newsletter? Gee I must have missed that. When you are bled're dry. And I bled to death a few years shy of getting out of that scene alive. It was a painful death. But, it allowed me a great excuse not to get invited to the "What are we gonna do with the excess funds" arguments at the end of the season. Sorry...couldn't give a see I'm dead. Yes yes, have a nice time with all the drama.
    Here's a new twist. Sports are expensive...if you are signing your kid up, plan on spending a LOT, after all, it is YOUR DAMN KID!! Fuck the fund raisers!! Hallelujah and Amen!! ;)