Fun to One is Hell to Another

Our big school fundraiser is next weekend. We call it Mardi Gras. It’s a carnival complete with rides, games and carnies. I hate it. It’s dirty, crowded, and loud. It is run 100% by pure parental volunteer hours, every class being assigned a game booth or food court. This is my 5th year. This is my 5th year hating it. It has no redeeming qualities. Not one.

I worry about the rides. I spend all my time looking at the Ferris Wheels and the rides that spin fast as hell, the big kid rides that my three children want to ride, and I think, “how well have these rides been maintained?” or “how much stress has been put on these rides and are there any stress fractures?”. Other parents don’t think that way… unless they work for engineering companies. You know us when you see us… we’re typically huddled under the Ferris Wheel talking about physics and structures and maintainability and then we typically say something like, “These rides make me nuts” and we walk away.

I worry about the people. These are strangers, people we do not know coming to our school. The carnies… oh my Lord, if they aren’t the dirtiest people I have ever seen. Just writing about them makes my skin crawl. Missing teeth, dirty to the point of slovenly, and looking like they’re stoned out of their minds half the time, although I’m sure there are some rules that stipulate they can’t drink and run the rides. Some of them are super nice. Some of them are not. By the 3rd day, fewer of them are nice than there were on the 1st day. I watch my kids like a hawk. My stomach is in a knot the entire time I am there. I hate it.

And to make it worse… now that I’m Treasurer of the school, I have to work it… the.entire.time. From the minute it opens, until the minute it closes plus some, I have to be there. I’m in charge of the money. I’ll be working in a back room on the computers, inputting and counting, under lock and key. Yes, that is right, I have security. And I’ll have security when I go to the ticket booths to change out drawers. For three days, this will be my personal hell. I suspect I will be on a first name basis with half the police department when this is finished.

OH! But this is not bad enough! Because also School Treasurer, my job has been to find the parents to WORK the ticket booths. I got lucky. Last year’s treasurer was nice enough to take half the list and help me out. That left me with 56 2 hour shifts to fill, which means, I have been on the phone, calling people, to help. I am frickin’ miserable. Did I tell you I’m NOT really that extroverted? This is soooooo far out of my comfort zone it’s not even funny. And for me to have to listen to all the damn excuses people have as to why they cannot help, knowing I HAVE TO BE THERE for THREE FRICKIN’ DAYS, just completely galls me.

So. Needless to say. I’m not so cheery. To my male readers… be very very happy you’re not married to me right now. Bitch isn’t even the half of it.