RickinNYC
DIS Veteran
- Joined
- Apr 22, 2003
- Messages
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For those with the patience to do so, you've read a couple of my stories of the Wild and Wacky World of Thanksgiving Volunteers '08. I told you of the woman who wanted to bring her 4 year old and 9 year old, ostensibly to volunteer, but actually to "show them poor people." I mentioned the young lady who was at first ridiculously cheerful, but was actually a loony tunes screeching harpy with denial issues. But those two are nothing compared to the lovely woman I just got off the phone with a moment ago.
I pick up and before I can even introduce myself or say a single word beyond, "He... (as in 'Hello')" I hear "My friends and I want to volunteer this Thanksgiving and I've called all the soup kitchens in the city and they're all booked and we have money to spend to make sure we have a spot so we'll make a donation to your charity but you need to let me know where we can go to do this." All.In.One.Breath.
I was totally taken aback by her mini-rant/bribery-attempt so all I could say was, "'Scuse me? What?"
"I said I called everywhere my friends and I want to volunteer we have money what's the problem," again in a single breath.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry but why don't we start this entire call over again. You and your friends want to volunteer on Thanksgiving, is that correct?" After she confirmed in a rather snooty tone, I explained that we were booked to capacity and just couldn't fit anyone else in. I did tell her, however, that I had one cancellation and if she was interested, I could accommodate her, but not her friends.
"Fine. What time and where do we go?" she asked.
"I'm afraid, again, that it's only a spot for one person, not for you and your friends," I jumped in.
"If you can fit one, then you can fit all four of us. Where do we go?" she insisted.
"Ma'am, not only is it impractical to put in more volunteers than necessary, but it's physically impossible. The spot you'd fill would be on 'the line' with other volunteers. I couldn't put more than one more person there without you all stepping on each other and getting in each other's way."
She took a breath and then said, "And YOU don't quite seem to understand what I'm saying. I said that we have money to donate IF you let us volunteer. We collected $50 and are prepared to bring it in, but in person ONLY, WHEN we volunteer."
Admittedly, if she had said $500, I would have done some schedule juggling or appealed to a volunteer who understood that money in this day and age does take precedence over certain things sometimes. I'd have sucked it up and done something to accommodate Lovey Howell and her gal pals. I can be bought like a pair of fur lined gloves on the 90% discount rack at Montgomery Ward. I have a soul and it's for sale. I'll dance like a trained monkey in a bowler hat if you give us a substantial donation. But for $50, you get a half lidded look of annoyance and a flutter of my hand in the universal sign of "go away kid, you're bothering me."
"Ma'am, again I'm sorry but we're completely booked and just can't fit all of you. Only one. That's just the way it is."
With a frustrated sigh, she answered, "Fine. Then the least you can do is make suggestions where we can go."
I explained that I can only speak for the 25 programs and shelters we operate and have no knowledge of what other shelters might need. As I was doing my best to tell her so, Lovey interrupted with a sigh and, "Fine. That's just fine," followed by a muttered word or two and a dial tone. I like to think her word or two was a "Happy Thanksgiving" but they have two many syllables and letters. I was never good at Jumble but apparently I'm excellent at frustrating folks.
Happy muttermuttermutter.
I pick up and before I can even introduce myself or say a single word beyond, "He... (as in 'Hello')" I hear "My friends and I want to volunteer this Thanksgiving and I've called all the soup kitchens in the city and they're all booked and we have money to spend to make sure we have a spot so we'll make a donation to your charity but you need to let me know where we can go to do this." All.In.One.Breath.
I was totally taken aback by her mini-rant/bribery-attempt so all I could say was, "'Scuse me? What?"
"I said I called everywhere my friends and I want to volunteer we have money what's the problem," again in a single breath.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry but why don't we start this entire call over again. You and your friends want to volunteer on Thanksgiving, is that correct?" After she confirmed in a rather snooty tone, I explained that we were booked to capacity and just couldn't fit anyone else in. I did tell her, however, that I had one cancellation and if she was interested, I could accommodate her, but not her friends.
"Fine. What time and where do we go?" she asked.
"I'm afraid, again, that it's only a spot for one person, not for you and your friends," I jumped in.
"If you can fit one, then you can fit all four of us. Where do we go?" she insisted.
"Ma'am, not only is it impractical to put in more volunteers than necessary, but it's physically impossible. The spot you'd fill would be on 'the line' with other volunteers. I couldn't put more than one more person there without you all stepping on each other and getting in each other's way."
She took a breath and then said, "And YOU don't quite seem to understand what I'm saying. I said that we have money to donate IF you let us volunteer. We collected $50 and are prepared to bring it in, but in person ONLY, WHEN we volunteer."
Admittedly, if she had said $500, I would have done some schedule juggling or appealed to a volunteer who understood that money in this day and age does take precedence over certain things sometimes. I'd have sucked it up and done something to accommodate Lovey Howell and her gal pals. I can be bought like a pair of fur lined gloves on the 90% discount rack at Montgomery Ward. I have a soul and it's for sale. I'll dance like a trained monkey in a bowler hat if you give us a substantial donation. But for $50, you get a half lidded look of annoyance and a flutter of my hand in the universal sign of "go away kid, you're bothering me."
"Ma'am, again I'm sorry but we're completely booked and just can't fit all of you. Only one. That's just the way it is."
With a frustrated sigh, she answered, "Fine. Then the least you can do is make suggestions where we can go."
I explained that I can only speak for the 25 programs and shelters we operate and have no knowledge of what other shelters might need. As I was doing my best to tell her so, Lovey interrupted with a sigh and, "Fine. That's just fine," followed by a muttered word or two and a dial tone. I like to think her word or two was a "Happy Thanksgiving" but they have two many syllables and letters. I was never good at Jumble but apparently I'm excellent at frustrating folks.
Happy muttermuttermutter.
this year?
There's got to be bucket loads of good karma coming your way!
Oh, Rick...thank you. We thought we were the only ones who got these wackos. 
Uhhhh, hello, that's ILLEGAL! As it happens, the business she picked up from was one of our biggest supporters, and they donated a lot of stuff that we counted on every year when we were figuring how far things were going to stretch. We let it go because ultimately the toys got to children and that matters the most. But I just couldn't believe that lady!