Next time, I'll write a check.

Sometimes charity shouldn't just begin at home. Very often it should stay there - right in that soft, warm bed that nobody should be forced to leave on a Saturday except to pee and eat (separately, of course).

As hard as I true to suppress my altruism, it takes over at weirdest times. And as hard as I try to suppress my inner cynic at said times, it never works. Take this weekend, for example. My company sponsored a volunteer event, in association with United We Paint. A good sized number of my co-workers and I showed up with assorted friends and family (yes, FB came along) at roughly 8 in the morning. The problems began immediately:

In the email we'd received from our public relations specialist, a continental breakfast was offered. I've stayed at Best Westerns before, so I wasn't expecting an omelette, but basics (a coffee pot? fresh baked goods? a table to put the foodstuffs on?) didn't seem too much to ask. Apparently my standards were too high. All we had were some boxed donuts (and I like Entemann's as much as the next guy, but...) and bottled water and sodas. The latter were not cold because our illustrious PR Chica neglected to get ice. She ended up asking the elderly couple whose house we painted for ice. And then proceeded to use their fridge to cool down some of the drinks faster.


I woofed a chocolate donut or two and grabbed a lukewarm Coke, naively thinking the worst was over. Poor A. - who was nice enough to carpool us there - seemed too depressed to sample the pathetic spread.


The day only got better from there. Apparently, PRC didn't realize you actually need supplies to paint a house. So off went our Vice President of marketing (aka PRCs boss) to Home Depot to pick up odds and ends like, oh paint, brushes, rollers, etc. During the course of the day we managed to kill several bushes, scrape a little too much plaster, and plug up one of the bathrooms. Where were our fixed-income hosts? The far-too trusting couple had left us with their home while they attended a wedding.

A funny thing happens when events like this go haywire: people stop working. Then they slowly and quietly disappear completely. I wasn't too surprised that folks bailed a little early, but when I realized our fearless leader, the inept PR chick was among the first to go, my antennae perked. Apparently she left before the pizza arrived for lunch, not thinking that she would have to use her corporate to pay for said food. Apparently, she had a birthday party to throw for her daughter. And in PR, it's always a good idea to doublebook - especially when the CEO brought his family, as did most of sernior management.

During the course of the day, the lone professional (yes, there was only one on hand) came out to A. within earshot of FB and myself. That was about as exciting as it gets. The house looked better after we "finished" (we never even put on a second coat), but I can't say I felt like it was much of a charity effort. Yes, the man served in WWII and has had an account with us since before Moses was floating down the river. Yes, they were too frail to paint the house themselves. But upon finding out that they have 8 kids, 29 grandkids, and a dozen or so more great-grandkids, I couldn't help but wonder if the family couldn't have a pitched in.

Oh! Silly me. They had a wedding to go to and there were birthdays to be celebrated.

See? My cynical side never fails me.

Night kids.

J.

This post was sponsored by the Water Based Skepticism Committee.