Despite my better judgement I have managed to get myself into two fairly large volunteer positions in the last few months. It’s like I can’t stand getting paid to work. It’s like a tick. One of these positions just so happens to be a board position for the Boosters of my kids’ gymnastics team. It’s been a few years since I’ve held an actual board position, and if memory serves, I didn’t love every minute of it. I’m pretty sure I swore off this type of volunteering. But then the bat signal was displayed in the form of an email from someone I don’t even know. I showed up to a parent meeting and after a few “I nominate”s and “I second”s I was voted in as incoming President with the rest of the new board. They didn’t even ask to see my qualifications. I should have known I was in trouble when I realized the secretary reminded me of Chelsea Handler. And so it begins…
As most volunteer type meetings I’ve ever been a part of, this one started off small and icey. I think there were a total of 6 parents to include three board members, me (a total newb) and two other parents. The entire meeting consisted of an awkward discussion about the clusterfuck they call “The Books”, a few curt comments about upcoming events and me volunteering to chair an event that was happening in 10 days. I think I offered up my planning expertise just to cut the tension in the room. And because I’m ignorant. And the next thing I knew the meeting was over. Or at least it appeared over, because everyone started gathering up their notes. Did I miss the gavel strike and the “meeting adjourned” announcement I assumed happened at these fancy type board meetings? What the hell did I just get myself into?
As I sat there gathering up my notes and jumbled thoughts a low discussion was happening. Did I just hear someone mention drinks? I leaned in closer to better eavesdrop. Ok, I’m pretty positive I just heard them say “drinks” again. Just as I was about to say a prayer for and invitation and for “drinks” not to mean infused water I hear an “ahem” type of cough in front of me.
Looks-like-Chelsea says, “you in?” It was more if a dare than an invitation.
“Where are you bitches going”, I coyly responded, trying not to let on that I’m giddy. Seriously. It felt like I had been picked second for the schoolyard dodgeball battle; so exciting I had to fight back a beaming grin and crazy eyes. This never happened in real life. Ever.
“We’re gonna grab a drink. Just one. And we can discuss Boosters”. She had me at “Cough-ahem-cough”.
I looked at my phone calendar very important-like, and then the time, to make sure I didn’t have anything more pressing (I absolutely didn’t)…
” I am pretty parched”.
We all agree to head over the the closest and most convenient Happy Hour- which like a total mom-cliche’ just so happened to be at the local burger chain. I saddled up to the pub table , ordered my drink and engage in informative, if not somewhat gossipy conversation. Through the course of the hour-ish, I discover that these ladies are intelligent, funny, very nice and seem to be able to keep their cuckoo in check even after downing the “large” drinks. And best of all is they seem to like me.
I begin to imagine the next year being like episodes of SATC, where we sit around some happy hour table discussing super important board stuff. Fundraiser planning and Cocktails. Beer and Budgets. Am I the Carrie? Who’s the Samantha? And was Chelsea Handler ever in that show? I don’t even know why I’m referencing SATC, I’ve only seen like 10 episodes. All I know is this is going to be the best volunteering ever!!
8 days later, I am given the backhanded compliment of “congratulations” and “you’re brave!” by a slightly jaded gym parent. This is followed by 20 minutes of complaining about the board. What. The. Shit. At that moment I realize I am not Carrie and this is not Sex and The City. This is 30 rock and I’m not-yet-officially a fire-putter-outer. . At least I get to be Tina Fey. Blurgh.