I Already Gave At Home
I have often discussed the pitfalls of working from home – my inability to apply makeup, thinking of black yoga pants as business casual attire, sometimes prioritizing the shape of my eyebrows over a writing project – but even with the downside, there is one thing I will never miss about working in an office.
That thing, my friends, is co-workers trying to force their kids’ school fundraising catalogs down your throat.
Maybe that seems overly angry to you. Maybe you think I don’t like children. Or fundraising. But, the truth is, and I think any honest, sane person would admit the same, that I am sometimes sick to my stomach thinking of the $15 cheesecakes, rolls of $8 wrapping paper that only cover two gifts and Mary Kay blushers I’ve been guilted into purchasing.
It always starts innocently enough. “I’m just going to leave this brochure in the break room.”
But when sales get sluggish, the cubicle-to-cubicle approach kicks in. “Knock, knock.” (Not that I’ve ever had an actual office door.)
“Hi Linda.”
“I noticed you haven’t placed an order for any amaryllis bulbs yet. Would you like to get some now?”
“Oh, gee, Linda. I don’t have any cash or checks on me.”
“That’s OK. You can always pay me when the order comes in.”
“Well, I’ve really got to get this project to the boss before 5:00.”
“That’s OK, too. I’ll just leave this on your desk for awhile.”
“No, really, you can take it.”
“Oh no dear, I’ll be back for it later. Take your time.”
And we all know that if you don’t order something, said co-worker will only return later with a more powerful weapon – the uncapped pen and hover. I have tried to slip catalogues into mail boxes, I have refused to go into the office kitchen and I’ve even lied about allergies I don’t have, but somehow, I still end up buying something from one of those booklets.
“I’ll just put you down for two [fill in the blank],” Linda and all the other nameless, faceless office mates have always said.
And don’t even get me started on the holidays, when everyone in the office has a kid with at least one fundraising project. You can spend $100.00 before lunch if you’re not careful.
There is only one acceptable food for your child to sell and that is Girl Scout cookies. Girl Scout cookies are tasty. They cost $3.00/box. I would probably sell some of my relatives for a case of Thin Mints. This is a worthwhile and reasonably priced fundraising item.
Giant tubs of cookie dough, dream catchers and cheese baskets – at a 75% mark up – are not.
Worried your child will be disappointed that he or she isn’t the top seller in the class? Life is tough, and guess what? The electric company doesn’t accept scented candles as a form of payment. I would rather go to the Dollar Tree and buy your child a tub of sidewalk chalk or sheet of stickers that is probably comparable to whatever shiny item is being dangled in front of a second grader as a reward for selling enough pineapples to get that soccer team to a tournament in Selma than fill out one more form.
I am childless, and I pay property taxes – there’s my contribution to our schools. Please keep your entertainment books full of coupons only valid on Tuesdays between 2:00 and 2:30 to yourself.
But if you have Tagalongs, well, then we can talk.