“I’m calling tonight on behalf of the fireman’s annual ball…” he started.
“OHMIGOD,” I shrieked. “You want to take me to the fireman’s ball? That is soooooocool I can’t wait to tell my friends! A real fireman!”
“Um, no, wait…” he started again. But I wasn’t having it. I was ¾ of the way in studying for my final exams, twenty, and looking for any form of procrastination.
“This is going to be great. What time does it start? What kind of dress do I wear?”
Then he started laughing, really guffawing, and I did too.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I couldn’t help myself.”
He started again. “So I take it you know we are looking for donations.”
I did. They called every year. I explained that after rent, food, and whatnot, I had usually 17 cents left over for the month. I’d love to help him, but really I couldn’t. We talked for about 15 minutes. He said I was the first person to be even remotely nice to him, much less make him laugh. He said he’d be taking his wife to the event, and that she did wear a nice dress, and it was really a lot of fun for them. I told him it was really hard to ask strangers for money, and that I wished him luck.
His gratitude for that bit of laughter stuck with me. It really does suck to ask people for money. If you’ve ever had to fundraise, you know it is like pulling teeth. Separating people from their dollar can be like prying out a tooth with a fork. It’s hard.
And I like donating, now that I can do it. We regularly have people we give to, and the animal people have totally got us, because somewhere along the way we decided that the animals should inherit everything, as the people on this planet are too stupid to take care of it. My bet is still on a giant meteorite, wiping us jerks out, letting the animals start again. Maybe the dinosaurs were assholes too, so they got the meteorite fix. I should submit that theory.
Christmastime is where everyone comes out to ask. I don’t mind this either, except, this year…I don’t know. I must be on every list imaginable. People are sending me unsolicited address labels that I am now supposed to pay for (I might have, but you put my husband’s name on there, and no one will believe he wrote a letter or posted a piece of mail, so they will think its fake and throw it away). I can buy meal tickets and stamps and goats in Africa and help SAVE THE TIGERS and lotto tickets that fund the children’s hospital and and and….
Judas Priest, who do I give to first? Maybe if we spread this out a little it would be better? I’d love to see the Salvation Army bells and buckets in the Summer. I know Jesus was born in December, but birthdays can be overrated, and celebrating your half-a-year birthday is just as fun. There could be a inner-tubing/beach party bonanza for Jesus’ half birthday. Sangria and suntan lotion and buckets to fill with coins and dollars, because its sunny and everyone is smiling and having a great time and much more likely to give. Just a thought, Sally Ann.
I also think there must be a secret sign outside my house, a giant “S” for sucker, like the X in the window of the x-files TV show. (You know you can get it here.) A guy came to the door asking for donations for the single-family food bank. He was a bit older, and looked pretty messed up, half a drooping lid and kinda like he’d just been through the washing machine. And I think, Yeah, it’s hard with two people raising kids, let alone one, and a big-ass drooping lid…so I dig out a twenty, not my usual at-the-door chunk of change. Usually I’m stingier because I know I’m passing 112 Salvation Army buckets in the next four days.
Then this dude is in the paper for ripping people off, and we shouldn’t give him money…..dammit! I think. I got hosed!
So now I am a bit wary, even though most everybody still gets something. Its easier if people just try to bring me Jesus (why they think going door to door is beyond me, as if during dinner you want to take time out for salvation). Now I just say, “Thanks, we’re Buddhists!” This usually works, except last time I was cooking hamburgers and they could probably smell that, so I slammed the door quickly, very un-buddhist like.
So, yeah, spirit of giving. I still give, I still like to give, but lay off a little, okay? I can’t save every kitten with a cleft palate or one-eyed dingo that can’t find any carcass’ to eat. I’ll do my best, and I’ll try to be nice, but be reasonable, people, and next time put my name on the address labels.