Saturday, March 11, 2023

The Pissiest Day, Part 2

Thursday, Day 2 of the job fair:  

After a night of fitful sleep, I got up at 4 a.m. and turned on the coffee pot.  My feet were so sore that I could hardly walk.  My shoes had rubbed blisters on my feet on Tuesday.  After I'd been on my feet in wet socks and shoes for five hours the previous day, the blistered skin had peeled off with my socks, and there was raw, exposed meat on the tops of a couple of my toes.  I seriously considered crapping out of "volunteering" for day 2 of the job fair, but eventually I band-aided my toes, put on my biggest, comfiest shoes, and went to work.  

It was raining again.

At 7:00, I was sitting at a table in the warehouse, eating a biscuit and drinking coffee, when Mentor arrived.  She said, "Good morning.  I didn't expect to see you here again," dropped her stuff on the table and walked away.  I finished my breakfast and went to find her to see if there was anything specific that needed to be done before the school kids arrived.  She was standing in an aisle, listening to another volunteer tell her what a great job she was doing.  I walked up and waited for a break in the conversation.  When she saw me, Mentor told the volunteer about the caterer's issues of the previous day, after which she looked in my direction and said (grinning like the Cheshire cat), "and he may need our help again today."

I said, "Well, he's not getting me."

I could see her temper flare and did not care; working with the caterers again was off the table.  

She started to say that she was going to tell The New Boss on me, but she caught herself and said, "I chopped lettuce, too!" (which I thought was weird) and walked away.  She was a bit cool to me for the rest of the day.  

I ended up herding groups of students for the remainder of the job fair.  We had scheduled the buses to arrive in 15-minute intervals so that we could get one group in, give them their swag bags, and disperse them onto the floor before the next bus arrived.  But the buses started arriving and unloading kids as much as 30 minutes early, and we were having trouble getting one group on their way before the next group poured in.  We volunteers had to make a human barricade to keep the groups apart.  

The teachers/chaperones had been told that the students would have two hours at the job fair.  Their departures had been set at 15-minute intervals like their arrivals.  Evidently, the teachers watched their clocks like hawks, for they began to gather their students for departure after two hours, regardless of what time the schedule said they were to leave.  We ended up with the same clustering at the departure door that we'd had at the arrival door.

On top of this confusion, it was raining and cold, and the students could not wait for their buses outside.  At one point, there must have been close to 400 kids gathered at the departure door, blocking the aisles so that the new arrivals could not get to some of the exhibits.  We had to change the plan and move them all to the arrival door, which confused the bus drivers who were told to pick them up at the back door.

It was a cluster-f***.

As the last two groups were gathered to leave, one of the exhibitors packed some stuff into a rolling cart and headed to the front door, where there was a set of metal steps (wet from rain) to navigate.  One of the volunteers told him that he could use the ramp at the other side of the room, which was closed off by a mechanical door.  She asked me if I knew how to work the door.  I did know how, so I led the man to the door, pushed the button, and let him roll his cart down the ramp.  As the door was closing, Mentor showed up and screamed, "YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO OPEN THAT DOOR!  DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR!  THE STUDENTS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO GO OUT THAT DOOR!"  

I said, "It wasn't a student; it was a vendor taking some of his stuff out."

She said, "VENDORS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO LEAVE UNTIL ALL THE STUDENTS ARE GONE!"

I said, "Well, you'd better get on the P.A. system and announce it, because they're streaming out the other door like water," and I turned around and walked away.

Thankfully, we volunteers were not responsible for cleaning up the warehouse after the job fair.  As soon as all the students were gone, I packed up the stuff that Mentor and I had brought (hand sanitizer, signs, etc.), loaded them into my car, and took them back to our office.  Then I skedaddled home.  

In retrospect, I believe Mentor thought I was mad because she had asked me to help the caterer.  I wasn't mad, period (at least not until she screamed at me about the ramp door).  I didn't mind chopping vegetables and serving food; I was tired and cold and wet and in pain.  

Frankly, I'd rather chop vegetables than herd kids.  

I did not go back to the office on Friday.  I half expected The New Boss to call me at home and fire me, or at least chew me out, but he didn't call.  Maybe he'll fire me Wednesday, when I'm scheduled to be in the office again.  

One can hope.











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