TheBanyanTree: The Bookkeeper's Lament

[Monique]

So there I was, minding my own business as I tend to do, not getting in
anyone's way, not letting them get in mine overly much (there is a certain
infringement upon my space I find I must let others get away with, so that I
may be allowed to reciprocate when the spirit moves me to do so) when the
inexplicable happened.

Wait. That's wrong. It was not inexplicable. It was totally explicable, in
fact, so much so that when these things happen I don't think of the very
inexplicable nature of them at all. 

So there I was, at a business lunch with a whole passel (more than 7, less
than 200) of people, and the director of the organizing organization asked
me, inexplicably, if I would help her at the next lunch with registration
and signing people in and that sort of thing. "It's just too much to do!"
she said to me, "will you come help me next month?"

The first thing I did, when asked this, was look around the room. At the
passel of people that were there. And I wondered why I was asked for this
peculiar honor, and not another member of the passel. I've only been present
at this organization's functions once, two weeks before, and have not yet
gone to any effort to make myself known as someone who wants to pitch in and
help.

That's because I'm not one of those people. Not that I don't like to help,
believe me, help is what I'm all about it. I wake up in the morning thinking
to myself, "Self, how can you help people today, without sabotaging my own
ambitions yet again?" There is never a satisfactory answer from Self.

A couple of weeks ago I went to this organization, which had lain dormant in
my memory banks for several months, and said, "Sure, okay, I'll finish
joining, here's the rest of my money," and THAT VERY SAME DAY, found myself
engaged in volunteering to help the director of the organization make her
Halloween costume. Which she needed by the end of the next day. 

Why did this fall to me? No one really knows. But I did it. I made her a
giant business card that she could wear like a sandwich board. I am not a
creative person, so I had to have help with this task, but I got it done. I
even went shopping for the cardboard and the materials and the hat she
needed also. (I had to, she called me later that day asking me to pick up a
hat for her the next day, as if that was somehow included in the scope of my
responsibilities, when I wasn't even sure how I'd managed to get ANY scope
of responsibilities.) But I did it, and I showed up at the event she needed
the costume for, in costume myself, with my digital camera. (Technically,
it's not mine. It's Stew's. And I really appreciate him letting me use it. I
do.) And I took pictures.

The next day, or the day after that, I emailed her the pictures. She thanked
me, and then asked if I had one of a certain member receiving her award for
best costume. As if I'd sent all the pictures, as I had, but had kept one
back until asked for it, as if that one picture was being held for ransom or
as a hostage, or as an I don't know what. 

"No," I responded promptly, "I sent you all the pictures I had, if it's not
there it must not have turned out."

Do you remember how I said the pictures were digital? And that I emailed
them to her? So the day before the next event she emailed me again asking if
I was bringing the pictures the next day. Since the pictures were digital
and I had no intention of printing them out, I wasn't sure what she wanted.
Well, obviously, the pictures. I ignored her email, though I did consider
putting the pictures on a CD so I could give that to you, in addition to the
ones I'd emailed her. 

Anyway, back to the lunch in question. I suspect that it's because of my
occupation that I was asked this question. A bookkeeper, such as I am when
I'm in the mood, is supposed to be very clerical oriented, or so I assume
people think. I'm not, of course, but that's neither here nor there. Out of
that whole passel of people, I was the most likely suspect to be called in
for desk duty. Out of all those business owners, a bookkeeper is the first
choice to man the desks, to hand out name tags, to collect money. 

Most of my work is theoretical and not hands-on, but that's beside the
point. The point is, out of all those people who have been associated with
this organization much longer than I have, it seemed only logical,
apparently, that I'd be the one dragged into this sort of duty.

I had to decline, on the basis that at the next luncheon I'll have my own
table to man, or person, with my own materials, and can't be scooting back
and forth between check-in and my table - not unless they give me a chair
with wheels. "Oh," said the director, "that's right."

Yes. That's right. Not to worry though - she has asked me to help get the
newsletter out (I'd rather someone ask me to write the newsletter, or edit
the newsletter, or any of that stuff that I do well, but instead I'm asked
to help FOLD AND MAIL THE NEWSLETTER, which is not a difficult task even for
someone with my limited talents) and I have, for some reason I don't
understand, agreed to do so. Why? I don't know. I suppose if I prove I can
check people in and fold pieces of paper, I can prove that I am able to take
on more complex assignments. Perhaps I can work my way up in the volunteer
chain to where I'm doing the important work.

No one really knows what that is, but I'm pretty sure I'm not being asked to
do it. At least I hope not. That'd be too much pressure for me. Too much
responsibility. 

I do wonder though: With that huge passel of members there, why me? It's
because I'm a bookkeeper. The fact that I'm not a very good one doesn't seem
to make a difference sometimes. 


Monique