Rummage Sale

I used to be quite the school volunteer.  I’ve done my time working unifix cubes with 1st grades, leading a student book club, teaching Omnibus small groups on topics like Ancient Egypt (yes, we walked like Egyptians..) and timing the 4th graders at their track and field day.

But, you know how it goes.  Next thing you know, you’re divorced, and your charmed life as a stay-at-home mom comes to an abrupt end.  Suddenly, you’re in the work force, crossing your fingers as your run out the door in the morning that your kids don’t miss the bus, forcing you to have to drive back and get them, which will mean missing nearly half the workday by the time you transport them to the multicultural “alternative” school program that seemed like a terrific idea back when you were in your old life, but suddenly is a huge fucking inconvenience and one more glaring example of the countless ways in which you’ve completely fallen down from everything you hoped for and wanted for your kids. #anotherparentfailure

I digress.

I didn’t really have as much time to volunteer.  Ok, I didn’t have any.  Well, I had a little, and I did attempt to do a couple of things when I was first working, but shit, I only had those 5 vacation days for the whole year.  And let me tell you, they get used up in a hurry!  So, I pretty quickly became yet another working mom, resenting the at-home moms not only for the time they had to volunteer, but also the time they had to get proper exercise, grocery shop and cook nutritional meals for their family, still have the energy to read somebody a bedtime story at night and possibly even have sex with their husbands.  And I suddenly understood why copies of Working Mother Magazine were in all the waiting rooms at the pediatrician’s office.  After a long, disappointing day of being barely appreciated and definitely underpaid at work, while waiting for your kid to get a throat culture, an article with a title like “Studies Show Taking Time For Yourself Has Positive Impact On Kids’ GPA”, while surely complete bullshit, can really make a gal feel better. (NOTE: As an at-home mom, I resented these magazines, vehement and entitled over how hard I worked and feeling the complete lack of respect that society had for my important work.  I always fantasized about starting a magazine called At-Home Mom Magazine, but justified not having the time in that I was working too hard being one...).

And now, here I am, with my three bio children in high school, my two bonus children in elementary school and enough guilt to power the space shuttle around the moon four times over not having done more volunteer work.  I mean, shit, I went into real estate so that I could be flexible, right?  But, by the time I’m done driving them to (and attending) their multitude of sporting events, social activities, music lessons and jobs, I’ve eaten up a pretty good chunk of the week. 

So, when the high school music department rummage sale came a callin’, it seemed it was time for me to step it up.  I had conflicts the last couple years and therefore didn’t really know what to expect, having never attended the event.  But, after their 5th reminder email, I finally clicked the link for “volunteer opportunities”, figuring I’m covering two of my kids with the one volunteer day. Dizzy and overwhelmed by the extensive list of duties and confused by job descriptions I didn’t understand, I simply emailed the coordinator, and said to plug me in on Saturday and I’d help wherever.  Big mistake.

I arrived late (a smattering of justification over the fact that I had to run a work errand on the way still lingering...self-serving, bullshit-excuses, working mother that I am).  I walked into the high school gym, which was filled with “rummage sale donations” that had been dropped off the day before.  The idea is that people donate items, we sell them, and all the proceeds go to the music program.  I checked in at the desk and was immediately sent to “pricing”.  If you think it means pricing the items, you’d be sort of right.  Only it’s worse.  You are given a “general” guideline of what things should cost, and then you have to add up the items and haggle with the fucking public at the table, eventually agreeing on the price and sending them to check out, which is surely the most sought after, candy-ass, easy volunteer job that there is.  Just try and stop me from grabbing that one next year.  Oh, and did I mention that we are raising money for a program whose families I can only assume are among the most wealthy in the district?After all, we’re paying beaucoup bucks for expensive instruments, private lessons, special concert clothing and trips all over the country.  So, I’m standing there with the moms in their red Stillwater sweatshirts (aka “Pony Gear”) and their Miss Me jeans, who drove up in their SUVs with no concern of any kind about the fact that it’s costing hundreds of dollars a week just to keep the thing gassed up. And I’m wearing the only red shirt I own, which happens to make me a little over dressed for the occasion.  One of the ladies gives me a compliment on my shirt (I vaguely remember that this is what suburban moms do, compliment each other on their outfits and jewelry) and I stammered out that it was the only thing I had that is red.  I then added that I was wearing red underwear, which was clearly taking things a little too far, because two ladies chuckled uncomfortably and one actually raised her hand to her mouth and sputtered out something that sounded like “oh, my!”.  Seriously ladies, try getting out a little more.

And then came the customers.  There were a few students purchasing items, as well as a couple of the volunteers.  But, mostly it was a bunch of people who clearly have MUCH LESS than the people they are purchasing these items from.  Let’s see if we have this straight:

1. Wealthy people vote NO in school referendums, requiring music departments to hold rummage sales to pay for things like school instruments and sheet music.
2. The same wealthy people then help out at the rummage sales, overpricing their personal garbage and selling it to people less fortunate. People who would surely benefit from having an affordable and more accessible music program in their school district.
3. So, the less fortunate are actually funding the music program by purchasing used microwaves, stuffed animals and old Longaberger baskets (which were originally purchased at wealthy person “home parties”) so that the wealthy people can keep their taxes lower.

Am I the only one in the high school gym that can see this is messed up?

And you want me to haggle with these customers over prices?  Oh, HELL to the NO.  Here’s how it went down:  If somebody rolled up with a stroller and a kid that looked like they probably regularly have to wait at daycare longer than they should because dad and mom both work two jobs, I added up the items, using the LOWEST suggested pricing and then usually rounded it down.  Meanwhile, behind me, the women were exhausted from the effort of haggling with customers over prices.  Seriously, ladies?  I was curious about these women, so I inched my way closer, wondering about their side conversations.  One mentioned that she’s leaving tomorrow morning for Jamaica for a mission trip with her family.  I considered mentioning the radio spot I heard recently about how gay people in Jamaica basically have to lie and hide their sexual orientation, or face certain torture and potential death.  But, then I realized that she’s probably heading there to stop just those types of sinful behaviors and turn the good (but could be better) people of Jamaica to the word of the Lord.  And then we’ll be talking about the Minnesota Marriage Amendment that’s on the ballot this election, and next thing I know, I’ll be insulting everyone in the place just in time for my children to arrive and volunteer, hanging their heads in “I don’t fit in here” shame.  

Next came the teachers, all asking for the “teacher discount”.  What is this, Walmart?  It’s a fucking rummage sale.  A rummage sale to support THREE OF YOUR FELLOW TEACHERS and their music program.  It’s a fundraiser!  I then began to hear their own stories, of how they have a budget of $0 for their classroom books and use all their own money to supply the room.  I know this is true.  I used to be a teacher.  And again with the irony, as they purchase used books from people who voted against raising more money for the schools so they can put said books in their classrooms and make it a better learning environment for the kids of the people who voted NO to the referendum.

Bored, irritated and frankly a bit frightened, I started to wander around the gym.  The entire place was a monument to suburban excess.  Discarded “Lucky” brand jeans that cost well over a hundred dollars, barely even worn.  Thousands upon thousands of unused craft items, most still in the package.  Home decor items galore - glittery fall leaves, table mirrors, items so useless and banal that we couldn’t even identify their use at the check out table.  I wondered briefly what the vast majority of the rest of the world, who live in extreme poverty, would think walking into a sale like this.  

As I drove home later, past a sea of conservative political yard signs, claiming the need for lowered taxes (even though Washington County is among the lowest taxed counties in the COUNTRY) and reminding me that legal gay marriage would somehow harm my own heterosexual marriage (ignorance abounds in Suburbia), I recalled a story I heard some years ago.  My mom knew a lady who stated she would never hold another rummage sale.  The woman said it was shameful for her to do so, because she didn’t need the money, and surely her items should be GIVEN to people who had so much less than her.  

I think I forgot that story when I agreed to sign up for this volunteer opportunity.

And next year, I think I’ll help do vision screening instead.