One would be hard pressed to find an individual who volunteers more than my sister Patti.
She attends meetings, formal gatherings and women’s luncheons. She sits with pen in hand and carefully documents every detail and when the need for a volunteer arises, she’s the first to shoot her hand in the air and say, “Oh, oh, pick me!”
I like to help others as well. I’ve been known to work in food lines, make cookies for a bake sale and if you’ve had your gallbladder out and your family needs meal, I’d be your gal. Yet, to preserve my own sanity, I limit my volunteering and avoid anything that involves Robert’s Rules of Order.
Still, my sister Patti takes it upon herself to get me more involved at every turn. “Say kid,” she’ll say when she calls, “our cookie committee needs a chairman, I don’t suppose I could put your name down.” Then there’s her guilt trip call, “Lori, I’m really in a jam, I’ve worked seven nights in a row for our Artistic Pipe Cleaner society and if I could just find someone who could color code the pipettes and then make about 13 bazillion phone calls, I’d be so relieved.”
I’ve learned to handle Patti’s phone calls with grace and skill and have been able to come up with some dandy excuses for not helping out. “Sorry, they’re having family night at the dentist’ office and we’re doing a group root canal that evening,” “No I can’t serve for the lady’s luncheon, the dog is throwing up,” and when all else fails, “I’ve checked my schedule and we couldn’t possibly help out as we’ve got a….thing.”
Turns out she can’t debate the “thing” if she doesn’t know what the “thing” is.
When Patti called a month ago looking for someone to chair an entire season of tailgate parties and soup and pie suppers for our school, I went pale at the prospect. I coughed a bit, told her I was about to be quarantined and promptly hung up the phone. Being persistent, she phoned me right back, stifled a sob and asked, “Could you just do this one on October 23rd?”
“I don’t know,” I responded as I felt a pang of guilt, “how much work is it?”
“Oh, it’s not too bad,” she said and I swear the tone in her voice turned from sadness to singsong. “You’ll just need to call about 20 people and gather some pies. It’s really a snap.” And right before she slammed down the phone she said, “Oh, and you’ll have to make the soup.”
Doesn’t that just beat all?
I wrote the date down on my calendar and put it on my mental back burner. I was totally oblivious as to what I’d just agreed to. In fact, I’m so ignorant that I didn’t really become suspicious until I got thank you notes from committee chairmen and activities association presidents thanking me for taking the task on. I really became unsettled when Robin O’Worker, Patti’s inexhaustible twin slapped me on the back at field clean up day and told me, “Welcome aboard!”
Turns out Patti had heard me say, “No stinking way,” and took it as a “I’d love to do it all!” Because just last Wednesday she called and asked me if I had, and I quote, “Lined up all of my workers for the tailgate party at the football game Friday night?”
I had just taken a swig of coffee at the time and suddenly I could barely choke it down, “Pardon me?”
“The tailgate party for Friday night,” she repeated. “You did make all of the necessary phone calls and lined up the workers, didn’t you?”
“Why would I do that?” I asked as my hands started to tremble.
“Because you’re the Soup and Pie Supper and Tailgate coordinator, silly. Now I’ve taken the liberty to put you on our cookie committee because I know you’ll want to be ‘hands on’ with that and Ms. Masie Menial will be calling you to bring you up to speed on our burger wrapping council.”
“I’m not a coordinator.”
“Oh, sure you are,” she replied, “says so right here in the school directory.”
“How’d my name get in there?”
“I put it in.”
Now no one will take my phone calls and when they do, they’ve come up with some dandy excuses. My friend Trixie can’t help out because she’s having extensive dental work, Ethel suddenly has a sick bird and I’ll be danged if Mable didn’t have the audacity to say she had a “thing” that night.
I’ll show them. I’ll give their numbers to Patti and described them as people who would love to help out. I’m sure they would work out just splendidly for her Marching Martyrs Society.
Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book “Are We There Yet?” You can reach her at www.loriclinch. com.