The Bookkeeper’s Lament
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.
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.
posted by Monique at 8:35 PM
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