Friday night was wrestling parent concession night. For those of you who haven’t been blessed with this activity, it means that last Friday was the wrestling parents’ turn to help sell concessions during the Friday night Varsity Football Game. We didn’t actually volunteer for this job. The parent liaison called our home late one night and my husband caved in. You know how it goes-every parent in a high school booster club has to do their part.
There were twelve of us in there, each given stations. Some had ‘nachos’. Others had ‘popcorn’ or ‘Gatorade’. Another was the runner, passing hot dogs and pretzels to the ticket windows. One poor gal had the thankless job of hot chocolate maker (it was cold and windy on Friday night). My husband and I were given Window #2.
The job was pretty easy. Basically, tons of people line up, tell us want they want, we make sure they get it, and take their money and give them change.
That’s how it was supposed to go.
In reality it was like something out of an old Saturday Day Night Live ‘Cheeseburger!’ episode. Things moved at a frantic pace. Tom and I each waited on kids and parents and got pretty good at yelling out orders. Well, enough to do any diner waitress proud. It was noisy. It was windy. I had to be loud. “Two hot chocolates, one popcorn, one walking taco, and a Pepsi!” And then I had to add it all up in my head. And give correct change.
Of course, we had lots of people who changed their minds. Two popcorns. No one hot dog. No, two pieces of pizza. Don’t even get me started on the kiddos with one wadded up dollar in their hands and twenty kinds of candy bars to choose from. The game finished at 9:45. We got out of there about 10:30-anxious to get off our feet and drink some hot tea. I had lost my voice during the last two minutes of the game!
What did I learn? 1) All of us parents, no matter what we do for a living, can come together and make a stand run like clockwork. No egos can be involved in the tricky dance of delivering three plastic containers filled with steaming cheese sauce and over-flowing nacho chips to antsy eight year olds! I got pretty good at telling the president of our local bank to hurry up with the purple Gatorade.
2) Kids, by and large, are polite. They stood in line and didn’t push and shove. They asked for their order politely. They said thank you. Even the kids who wore letter jackets. Even the kids with the earrings through their eyebrows. Even, uh, my kids.
Finally, I learned what I sometimes forget-that there’s a whole lot of volunteers out there who work really hard and deserve my thanks. So, here’s to volunteers!
This week, I’m going to rest for a little bit—finish a book! Because, well, the spirit sale is next weekend and I’m on the list for that, too.
Any one else have a volunteer story?