Charity Case

Posted by John

Anyone who knows me knows how much I love charity. In fact, they used to call me Johnny Charity Case for the longest time because I was so charitable.

It was exactly because of my charitableness that I was so excited for Charity Week at work recently. Truthfully it wasn’t actually called “Charity Week,” it was “United Way Week,” but it’s pretty much the same thing. If there’s one thing that’s more into charity than I am, it’s my company. I had just started working there last year when Charity Week came around so I failed to grasp the importance of it at the time, largely because all the turd-log engineers I work with are anti-social, selfish pricks. So it wasn’t until after Charity Week last year that I came to realize how important United Way, and charity in general, is to the company.

I was ready for it this year though. The Monday of Charity Week kicked off with a lunch potluck, complete with door prizes and games to get everyone fired up for all the charity that was to come. Tuesday was designated as a “Day of Caring” during which the company encouraged everyone to take two hours off of work to volunteer at a local Goodwill-like clothing store. Wednesday was a big Volunteer Fair at the office where various organizations associated with United Way came in to set up booths to try to encourage people to donate time or money to their causes. Thursday was another Day of Caring at an inner city daycare/school. Friday was a big wrap-up tailgate and concert on the plaza in front of the office building.

I had another obligation on Monday so I didn’t make it to the potluck, which was just as well because I was already fired up for charity. Tuesday couldn’t come soon enough though. I signed up for both Days of Caring because not only did I want to help, but I also wanted to take two hours off of work. That and I didn’t want to be the only person in the company to not volunteer.

Well, how silly of me, because it turned out I wouldn’t have been the only one to not volunteer - I was one of only 8 people to volunteer. I walked in like, “Where the fuck is everyone?”

“This is it, man.”

“Really? We have an office of 250 fucking people and only 8 volunteered?”

Whatever. I don’t need a crowd of people to do charity.

The Volunteer Fair on Wednesday was really good. There were 10 different very worthy, very needy organizations so I gathered information from all of them to consider my charitable options. There was a lot more attendance at the fair than the Day of Caring, but truthfully that was only because you could enter your name into a raffle to win an iPod Nano if you visited all the booths and had them sign your ticket. In all honesty I would have gone to the fair regardless, but fuck it, while I was there I was dead set on winning that Nano.

It was awkward though, as you can imagine approaching someone’s booth, listening to their pitch about how they work with at-risk, illiterate, homeless kids with heart disease and cerebral palsy, or whatever the case was, then being like, “It sounds like you do really great work… by the way, can you sign my ticket here? I really want to win that Nano.”

I actually felt so bad and awkward about it that I made it a point to stay and talk to each of the presenters for several minutes, then I developed this admittedly retarded little routine where I would thank them for their time, take two steps away, turn suddenly on my heel like I’d forgotten something, then say, “Oh, I just remembered… could you possibly sign this ticket for me?” I’m such a douche.

I volunteered for Thursday’s Day of Caring expecting more people to show up. Again, silly me. I walked into the place to find another 8 fucking people. And the thing was, only 4 of the people were repeats. That means the other 4 people who volunteered on Tuesday were like, “Yup, that’s good enough for me. Two hours a year is about all I have time for. I sure am happy with the turn out though. We really represented the shit out of the company at this charity today…” Fuck it, whatever.

Like I said, I was at an inner city daycare/school that I will say in all honesty is one of the most remarkable places I’ve ever been to for what they’re able to accomplish with how little they have to work with. In fact, they asked us just to help out with landscaping and cleaning carpets and whatnot because they simply don’t have time for it. I got put on playground cleaning duty, which is exactly what it sounds like. They had one of those big metal and plastic jungle gym playgrounds that looked like it had 25-years of child-filth all over it. The problem was, the only supplies we had available to us were two bottles of 409 and some old t-shirt rags. 409? Seriously, I didn’t know they even still made that shit.

After spending an hour-and-45-minutes scrubbing the shit out of that playground, thinking the whole time how I could have brought my pressure washer if only I’d known, the assistant maintenance man for the school walked on by and was like, “Ya’ll know we have a pressure washer here, don’t you?”

I glared back at him with a look that said, “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

Apparently he could read my mind because he said, “Seriously; it’s right here,” where he literally took 15 steps to a utility closet and produced a gasoline powered pressure washer.

Again, the look on my face said, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

We then spent the next 15 minutes unsuccessfully trying to get the fucking thing to start, after which he said, “Well, apparently it doesn’t work. At least you didn’t miss out on anything.”

Actually, I beg to differ shitface. I could have spent the last hour-and-45-minutes figuring out how to get the fucking thing started then I could have power washed the whole fucking playground in 15 minutes and my fingers wouldn’t be bleeding and burning from scrubbing the shit out it with old rags and fucking 409. But whatever. Whatever. This was for charity and I’m all about fucking charity.

Friday was the wrap-up tailgate and concert. Lest you get excited like I did and think there was beer and shit for the tailgate, there wasn’t. In fact, I don’t know why they called it a tailgate because there wasn’t anything remotely resembling a tailgate. To make matters more confusing, each of the divisions was supposed to set up their own themed tailgates and the best theme would win something for the division. Do you have any idea what the theme of my division’s tailgate was? It was “tailgate.” I’m not making this shit up. The goddamn theme of our tailgate was “tailgate.” What the fuck? What are we, like 4 years old here or something? That’s like getting an orange cat as a kid and naming it Orange Cat. Who does that?

I was bombarded all week with e-mails from my division leader suggesting, then asking, then demanding we all bring tailgate food, flags, chairs, coolers, ice… everything you could think of for a “tailgate” tailgate except the one thing you really need – beer. Sign up sheets were passed around once, twice, three times, each with more pressure and guilt in tow. Finally I caved and signed up to bring a veggie tray and two fold out camping chairs, which I immediately regretted as I was lugging all that shit with me while trying to ride the shuttle into work Friday morning. My only saving grace was the fact that everyone was supposed to wear their favorite football jersey for the tailgates, so instead of wearing a football jersey, I wore a futbol jersey. So there I was, holding two chairs and a goddamn veggie try but I was just as smug as a clam because I had on my number 8, Steven Gerrard, Liverpool soccer jersey.

Well, silly me, yet again. Apparently while I was out of the office on Thursday afternoon doing charity work like I thought I was supposed to be doing during fucking Charity Week, an e-mail circulated through the company explaining the Friday tailgate and concert would be postponed until Monday due to the inclement weather forecast. So after dragging in a goddamn veggie tray and two fucking camping chairs, not only was I the only person in the office wearing a futbol jersey, I was the only one in the office wearing a goddamn jersey of any type because all the other fuck-all employees skipped the Day of Caring and therefore got the e-mail about the postponed tailgate. Fuck me. I looked like such an idiot.

Not only that but I didn’t win the goddamn iPod Nano. In fact, some ancient 70-year-old woman won the fucking thing. I was so furious, like what in the hell is this decrepit, old woman going to do with a fucking Nano? Download weather reports from the internet or something?  

I hate fucking charity.