No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Avid readers of my whinefest know about my Tuesday night thing, which will soon be known as my "former Tuesday night thing."

Picture it: my area, today. I drove all over freaking creation hauling Cub Scouts (one I have since named "Chin Music") to day camp in a neighboring state, driving them home, then driving back to said neighboring state in rush hour traffic to fetch my out-of-town husband's paycheck (or they'll mail it to us and we need it yesterday), driving home, picking up my three day camp orphans, taking them to Wendy's for drive-through and then... here comes the butt-clincher.

Even though I planned on not going to my Tuesday night thing, due to sunburn, headache, exhaustion, severe annoyance with several Cub Scouts in my care, and wanting to go somewhere air-conditioned after this roasty toasty camp excursion - I still had to make an appearance. I have the one key to the Tuesday night thing. The building peeps recently re-keyed the outside and inside of the Tuesday night thing building, and provided one key per shift. My shift members wisely agreed that I should have it, due to our one-car-overscheduled family situation, because that way, Mr. Crybaby can drop me off on his way to his gambling habit on Tuesday evenings and I can open the door for everyone else.

If you're keeping track, this was an uncharacteristically smart move for my shift members.

I actually called Mrs. Blossomhead this evening, an hour before our shift started, to see if she had been given a key yet. Nope. I told her I would drive to the building, unlock the door, let myself and the four Crybaby children inside, eat dinner in the gym and WAIT FOR HER so I could let her in.

Everything went like clockwork until 7:03 PM, three minutes after our shift starts, with nary a fellow staff-member in sight. A lovely gentleman who took one look at my day-campy appearance and decided I couldn't possibly know my butt from a bag of elbows, sat outside with me in front of the Tuesday night thing. I told him I couldn't let him in until more staff members showed up. He grunted dismissively and wondered aloud to himself if Mr. Bloopbutt would be working this shift. I thought about telling him "No, he's not here tonight" (since I DO know my butt from a bag of elbows and who my fellow staff members are, too), but figured he'd let it go in one snobby ear and right out the other.

Finally I thought, at least I should go inside the Tuesday night thing and make a couple of phone calls to Good Cop and Bad Cop, the Tuesday night thing directors, and let them know that this shift tonight would be staff-less. After all, none of them were here yet.

Then I thought, what if Mrs. Blossomhead or Mr. and Mrs. Ick were sitting outside in their cars, waiting to be let in an unlocked door?

Oh, no, I thought. They couldn't be that stupid. Surely one of them would have at least wandered indiscriminately in the direction of the building door and checked to see if it were unlocked. One of them must have seen my van in the parking lot and known that I was inside. Certainly Mrs. Blossomhead remembered our conversation from sixty minutes ago, and would know that I was there and MAYBE she could poke her head inside to see if I was there. I had arrived at 6:30 PM, unlocked the front door, and kept my children busy checking out the foyer to see if any of them had come in, and none of them had.

Or... maybe they could be that stupid.

I went outside and was perturbed to find that not only were Mr. and Mrs. Ick and Mrs. Blossomhead sitting in their vehicles, like low-IQ sheep who had somehow stumbled onto the technology that we know as "driving a car," but after sitting out in the brine with their hair frizzing to oblivion for who knows how long, Good Cop and Bad Cop were now paying a surprise visit and had just exited THEIR vehicles. And pretty much all they can see is that the Tuesday night thing should be happening, and it isn't, because their staff is sitting outside picking fleas off each other - except for the one staff member inside with the one key, who is obviously a tardy door-opening flake.

Uh-duh! Maybe we should try the door next time! "I thought you would try the door and see if it was locked," I said to Mrs. Blossomhead (which, by the way, was completely unnecessary since people had been using the unlocked door, two feet away from her). Bad Cop whispered to me, "They should have," as she walked by. Mrs. Blossomhead said, "I didn't know you were here! I didn't see your van drive by!" Apparently she doesn't recognize my van when it's actually parked.

Now that I could unlock the door, I went for it. I received major fisheye from the Cops regarding my day-campy bag-of-elbows attire and found myself apologizing. Which was dumb - like they've never been to day camp. I made certain Bad Cop knew the reason for the shift-opening lateness and the reason I would not be staying tonight, but Good Cop (who normally lives up to her name) turned on me and said, "Since we only have one key per shift right now, you should give it to the shift supervisors, Mr. and Mrs. Ick, so they can be here to open up on time."

Grrrrrrr. If by "on time" you mean "arrive late and leave as soon as you can," yes, the Icks are perfect for the job.

That - combined with my driving through cop-ridden traffic from one end of town to the other, after putting umpteen miles on my car just today, and being made to feel like a naughty child who doesn't deserve the privilege of doing the Tuesday night thing and a disgusting slob in the bargain - is why I quit the Tuesday night thing tonight. After all these years of excellent service, busting my husband's butt to get me there on time - sometimes he left work early - and gas, time, miles on the car, kids without Mom, messy house, and obvious peril to my personal safety, this is how I'm treated for showing up with the key - EARLY - and following the rule of not opening Tuesday night thing until multiple staff members are there.

Sorry, folks, there won't be any more Ick-y stories for a few months. I'm taking some time off. I'm dropping off the keys to the Icks and that way, when they're late, Mr. and Mrs. Blossomhead, Good Cop, and Bad Cop can be mad at them instead of me. I'm done with it.