That means I had to try to go to sleep last night at a decent time. And that was when the chaos ensued. Leaving me no time to blog. Only time to lay in my bed and think, “Man I wonder if I’m ever going to fall asleep?”
You see. I have a bit of a weird schedule. It’s a schedule that comes as a result of me being allowed to set my own schedule. And it’s a schedule that very rarely sees the light a.m. hours. It sees plenty of the dark a.m. hours though.
For quite some time I have been staying up late and getting up late. I actually work more than the average person, but I just do a majority of my work at night, when the average person is sleeping. It is not unusual at all for my roommate to get up to go to work before I go to bed. But even if you are going to bed at 5 or 6 in the morning you still feel like a very large loser when you get out of bed at noon. It’s just not what productive people do. It’s what drug addicts and the unemployed and extremely well-rested people do. But it is not what functioning members of society do.
So then, I’ve been feeling like a slacker. What with the maintaining the waking patterns of drug addicts and all. So I’ve been trying to make a point to schedule things before noon, so that I have to get out of bed. But I haven’t been crazy about it or anything. I’ve been scheduling things for like 10 or 11. You know, baby steps.
But then a friend forwarded me an e-mail from the local Red Cross saying they needed some help in their accounting department, dealing with all the checks that have come pouring in for the Katrina victims. And I’m like, fine I GUESS a national emergency is enough to get me out of bed. So I tell them I’ll be in at 9 a.m.
But I know that the victims of natural disasters really have nothing on the comfort of my bed in the morning, so I thought I should probably enlist another factor which would guarantee my rising to greet the morning sun.
I called my dad. And convinced his retired butt to get out of the house and meet me at the office at 9 a.m. If I flaked on the Katrina victims I would only have my guilt to deal with, but if I flaked on my dad I would probably be better off just packing up and moving to the Astrodome.
So my dad and I arrived and were assigned our task, and it was quite a difficult one. You know it was difficult because it was a “two man job”. I will explain the two man job to you in great detail now. You take a check out of an already opened envelope (opening the envelope was another person's “one man job”), you make a copy of the check, then you put the copy and the check in two separate piles. After you have about 25 checks copied you run a calculator tape on the checks and the copies and make sure they match, then you give them to some other person, whose “one man job” involves making up deposit slips.
I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it or not, but I used to work in accounting. Where I was in charge of Accounts Receivables – aka, the receiving and depositing of money. I could do this “two man job” twice as fast as it takes two people to do it. I can copy the hell out of some checks. But for “security” reasons two people have to be on this job. Don’t mind that there is only one person assigned to the job of counting the cash. Cause if I’m a criminal I’m definitely looking to rip off the checks, not the piles of cash. And if I’m a criminal I think even I know that it is a good possibility that I may be instantly swallowed up by the gates of hell if I tried to steal from the friggin’ Red Cross.
But anyways. Dad and I set up a nice little efficient system for our two person job. (One that hit a slight snag when, after copying two checks, he went and asked the woman in charge when he was allowed to take a break. Seriously. Sarcasm may be hereditary. And apparently it does not run in the family of the woman in charge, cause she just stared blankly at him, “Uh, we have bagels.”)
Once Dad settled into the idea of being back in an office after a year of retirement, things went relatively smooth. Sure the copier copied at a speed reminiscent of old dot matrix printers. And Dad went into panic mode every time there was more than one check in an envelope. But overall I think we did okay. So good, in fact, that we rewarded ourselves with a huge meal afterwards. Copying really takes a lot out of a person.
If you are looking for someway to help out and want to do more than just write a check call up your local Red Cross and volunteer to help out around the office. It may not seem like a lot, but your time is a very valuable donation. Plus with all the horrifying images we’ve all seen lately the piles and piles of donations at The Red Cross are a nice little positive image to store away.
In the 3 hours we were there Dad and I added up over $50,000 worth of donations. Not bad for less than half a day’s work. Dad asked the woman in charge if we could have a cut. “Uh, we have bagels.”