I came out of the budget development process relatively unscathed. I am, however, convinced that hell will consist of crunching numbers with So I Married an Axe Murderer running in the background on a continuous loop. Well, I know it’s been a while since I’ve put anything of substance on the blog. Actually, if I really think about it, I probably haven’t put anything of substance on here anyway. But between putting together the budget and coming to grips with Lance Bass’s latest declaration, I really haven’t had time to do much of anything.
That all changed last Saturday as Jenn and I found ourselves roaming through West San Antonio trying to find what we thought was the cannery. To give some background, Jenn signed us up in Relief Society for the Cannery. Unbeknownst to her at the time, it was really the Bishop’s storehouse. For all of you who have never volunteered at the Bishop’s Storehouse, it is your lucky day—I kept a running diary:
6:59 am -- Jenn wakes me up and says we have to leave in 15 minutes. At this point, I’m questioning this whole church welfare/service thing. Maybe a couple more hours of sleep will help me feel differently.
7:20 am -- We leave the house in search of the cannery/storehouse. We are supposed to arrive by 7:30 for orientation. Unfortunately, we haven’t yet been able to install the Neon with a GPS system. We may have to settle with one of those compass things that can go on the dashboard that old people drive around with.
7:40 am -- After turning into the wrong parking lot, we finally find the place. It becomes obvious at this point that we are not working at the cannery but in some sort of grocery store. I guess this would be fine except the thought of not wearing a hair net is strangely disappointing.
7:44 am -- Halfway through orientation, I realize that we bring down the average volunteer age to about 68. A tour highlighted a couple of things: The Bishop’s Storehouse is pretty basic, consisting of two aisles of food each about 25 feet long. Luckily, the store has about 83 shopping carts—you know, just in case. There is also a small office, bathroom, kitchen and a decent size warehouse in the back. Also, Janice Kapp Perry’s Greatest Hits is playing in the background. I wish I was joking.
7:50 am -- T-minus ten minutes before the doors officially open—the excitement is palpable. It’s like Supermarket Sweep meets Extreme Home Makeover. I feel like David Ruprecht is going to walk through the door any moment.
7:59 am -- Well, due to my massive muscular frame, I am quickly whisked to the warehouse where I find myself surrounded by 5 other high priests. Not even two minutes pass before some obscure comment I can’t even remember leads to all five laughing hysterically. One of them, who looks like Bob Barker’s little brother, seems to be the boss of the warehouse, as he gets to drive the fork lift everywhere. When I jokingly ask him if I can drive it, he simply responds “no” without even looking at me. Well, the good news is I only have exactly 4 hours and 15 minutes left.
8:22 am -- I have been working in the warehouse and am wondering how Jenn is faring. I’m thinking I should go see if she needs help in the store. Now I know how Trevor felt every Saturday morning.
8:32 am -- Two guys from the Elder’s Quorum presidency show up, probably the only guys I really talk to at church as they are my age and pretty laid back. As they come through the back door to the warehouse, one of them asks, “didn’t this start at 8:30?” Good one…
9:15 am -- After shrink wrapping 48 cases of toilet paper, I make my way over to the other side of the warehouse where everyone is standing around waiting for Bob’s little brother to lay down a crate from his fork lift. As we stand around the crate, ready to take the boxes and load it on the warehouse shelves, one of my cohorts (obviously referring to the box contents) jokingly asks out loud, “what the heck is a Kotex?” I felt like I was in sixth grade again and for the life of me, I could not stop giggling—of course this comment mostly drew disgusted stares from fellow unloaders. Anyway, we finished unloading about half of the boxes when one of the older women quickly scurries over and begins to gently berate us, telling us we are mixing up the regular size and super plus size. [Insert joke here]
10:05 am -- We finally get to take a break. Half of us make our way to the kitchen for some pancakes, sausage and fruit, all of which were made using in-house ingredients (thought you should know). Breakfast was going great until someone brought up politics and I think it was the HPG leader who starts going off on how the government is no longer run by the people, including City government. I tell him I work for the City and tell him that there are many opportunities to become involved if he really wants to change things. Sensing disbelief, I ask him if he had had the opportunity to go to a public budget hearing, as we did conduct 11 of them throughout the City and logged over 350 comments (and you would be surprised how many of them are addressed). He shrugs it off and says it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. Well, that’s the spirit. You just gotta love political activism…
Breakfast ended with the following exchange:
Woman: So do you think Hillary has a chance for President?
That all changed last Saturday as Jenn and I found ourselves roaming through West San Antonio trying to find what we thought was the cannery. To give some background, Jenn signed us up in Relief Society for the Cannery. Unbeknownst to her at the time, it was really the Bishop’s storehouse. For all of you who have never volunteered at the Bishop’s Storehouse, it is your lucky day—I kept a running diary:
6:59 am -- Jenn wakes me up and says we have to leave in 15 minutes. At this point, I’m questioning this whole church welfare/service thing. Maybe a couple more hours of sleep will help me feel differently.
7:20 am -- We leave the house in search of the cannery/storehouse. We are supposed to arrive by 7:30 for orientation. Unfortunately, we haven’t yet been able to install the Neon with a GPS system. We may have to settle with one of those compass things that can go on the dashboard that old people drive around with.
7:40 am -- After turning into the wrong parking lot, we finally find the place. It becomes obvious at this point that we are not working at the cannery but in some sort of grocery store. I guess this would be fine except the thought of not wearing a hair net is strangely disappointing.
7:44 am -- Halfway through orientation, I realize that we bring down the average volunteer age to about 68. A tour highlighted a couple of things: The Bishop’s Storehouse is pretty basic, consisting of two aisles of food each about 25 feet long. Luckily, the store has about 83 shopping carts—you know, just in case. There is also a small office, bathroom, kitchen and a decent size warehouse in the back. Also, Janice Kapp Perry’s Greatest Hits is playing in the background. I wish I was joking.
7:50 am -- T-minus ten minutes before the doors officially open—the excitement is palpable. It’s like Supermarket Sweep meets Extreme Home Makeover. I feel like David Ruprecht is going to walk through the door any moment.
7:59 am -- Well, due to my massive muscular frame, I am quickly whisked to the warehouse where I find myself surrounded by 5 other high priests. Not even two minutes pass before some obscure comment I can’t even remember leads to all five laughing hysterically. One of them, who looks like Bob Barker’s little brother, seems to be the boss of the warehouse, as he gets to drive the fork lift everywhere. When I jokingly ask him if I can drive it, he simply responds “no” without even looking at me. Well, the good news is I only have exactly 4 hours and 15 minutes left.
8:22 am -- I have been working in the warehouse and am wondering how Jenn is faring. I’m thinking I should go see if she needs help in the store. Now I know how Trevor felt every Saturday morning.
8:32 am -- Two guys from the Elder’s Quorum presidency show up, probably the only guys I really talk to at church as they are my age and pretty laid back. As they come through the back door to the warehouse, one of them asks, “didn’t this start at 8:30?” Good one…
9:15 am -- After shrink wrapping 48 cases of toilet paper, I make my way over to the other side of the warehouse where everyone is standing around waiting for Bob’s little brother to lay down a crate from his fork lift. As we stand around the crate, ready to take the boxes and load it on the warehouse shelves, one of my cohorts (obviously referring to the box contents) jokingly asks out loud, “what the heck is a Kotex?” I felt like I was in sixth grade again and for the life of me, I could not stop giggling—of course this comment mostly drew disgusted stares from fellow unloaders. Anyway, we finished unloading about half of the boxes when one of the older women quickly scurries over and begins to gently berate us, telling us we are mixing up the regular size and super plus size. [Insert joke here]
10:05 am -- We finally get to take a break. Half of us make our way to the kitchen for some pancakes, sausage and fruit, all of which were made using in-house ingredients (thought you should know). Breakfast was going great until someone brought up politics and I think it was the HPG leader who starts going off on how the government is no longer run by the people, including City government. I tell him I work for the City and tell him that there are many opportunities to become involved if he really wants to change things. Sensing disbelief, I ask him if he had had the opportunity to go to a public budget hearing, as we did conduct 11 of them throughout the City and logged over 350 comments (and you would be surprised how many of them are addressed). He shrugs it off and says it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. Well, that’s the spirit. You just gotta love political activism…
Breakfast ended with the following exchange:
Woman: So do you think Hillary has a chance for President?
HPGL: A monkey could do as good as her.
Woman: Don’t insult the monkey.
Ahh…can you feel the love yet?
10:28 am -- My task: Cleaning out the produce truck. With mop and bucket at my disposal, I was strangely reminded of my old custodial job at the bean museum—which reminds me of the time Elder Packer and his 2-man entourage tried to come through the front door while I was vacuuming. To make a long story short, I opened the locked door (still not realizing who it was), kindly told him that museum didn’t open until 9:30 and he would have to come back later. Of course, he had to name-drop his son, who worked there as a curator and I promptly let him in. Come to think of it, I should have name-dropped Grandma and Grandpa—after all they were the Honeyville parade grand masters—he may have autographed my belt clip.
10:53 am -- Due to heavy cart traffic in the store area, I am asked to assist loading a cart for a customer. Eager to help, I saunter out of the warehouse and am slightly disappointed that the customer isn’t there for me to help—I am to collect the food on the list with the help of one of the regulars, whose bubbly singles ward attitude is sadly refreshing (of course, this follows my stint at the geriatrics convention in the warehouse).
11:05 am -- We are only about halfway through with the grocery list and I can tell the girl I am working with is clearly becoming frustrated with my inability to 1. find the item on the list in a timely manner and 2. read her mind—see, even though this was my first time, I was too stupid to not have memorized where everything was when I first walked in.
Just a side note—I later mentioned this to Jenn and she said that this lady actually asked/told her, “you’re husband doesn’t do much grocery shopping, does he”?
11:26 am -- After shopping with Martha Stewart’s younger sister, I was told that the meat in the freezer needed to be restocked. EQ guy #1 and I were tasked with doing this overwhelmingly cold task. At first we tried to brave the freezer room without the coats (there were some outside) but after a couple of minutes, my hands went colder than Team USA against Greece in the Semifinal basketball championship game—well, lucky for us there were some jackets right outside the freezer room. And these weren’t your normal everyday windbreakers—no, they were straight out of the 90’s…and 80’s…and probably the 70’s. In fact, when EQ guy #1 put on a jean jacket reminiscent of Clint’s jacket with the aqua inside liner, I even made the obligatory, “Hey, George Michael just came in, he wants his jacket back” joke. It’s almost as good as the “that looks like a weapon out of Braveheart” routine (ask Trevor).
11:33 am -- We’re still stocking the freezer while taking 30 second breaks every couple of minutes (yes, it’s that cold). After a while, one of the regulars comes by the front glass doors and the following exchange occurred:
Regular worker: Hey, can you guys take out this roast out of the bin; it has a rip in it.
Ahh…can you feel the love yet?
10:28 am -- My task: Cleaning out the produce truck. With mop and bucket at my disposal, I was strangely reminded of my old custodial job at the bean museum—which reminds me of the time Elder Packer and his 2-man entourage tried to come through the front door while I was vacuuming. To make a long story short, I opened the locked door (still not realizing who it was), kindly told him that museum didn’t open until 9:30 and he would have to come back later. Of course, he had to name-drop his son, who worked there as a curator and I promptly let him in. Come to think of it, I should have name-dropped Grandma and Grandpa—after all they were the Honeyville parade grand masters—he may have autographed my belt clip.
10:53 am -- Due to heavy cart traffic in the store area, I am asked to assist loading a cart for a customer. Eager to help, I saunter out of the warehouse and am slightly disappointed that the customer isn’t there for me to help—I am to collect the food on the list with the help of one of the regulars, whose bubbly singles ward attitude is sadly refreshing (of course, this follows my stint at the geriatrics convention in the warehouse).
11:05 am -- We are only about halfway through with the grocery list and I can tell the girl I am working with is clearly becoming frustrated with my inability to 1. find the item on the list in a timely manner and 2. read her mind—see, even though this was my first time, I was too stupid to not have memorized where everything was when I first walked in.
Just a side note—I later mentioned this to Jenn and she said that this lady actually asked/told her, “you’re husband doesn’t do much grocery shopping, does he”?
11:26 am -- After shopping with Martha Stewart’s younger sister, I was told that the meat in the freezer needed to be restocked. EQ guy #1 and I were tasked with doing this overwhelmingly cold task. At first we tried to brave the freezer room without the coats (there were some outside) but after a couple of minutes, my hands went colder than Team USA against Greece in the Semifinal basketball championship game—well, lucky for us there were some jackets right outside the freezer room. And these weren’t your normal everyday windbreakers—no, they were straight out of the 90’s…and 80’s…and probably the 70’s. In fact, when EQ guy #1 put on a jean jacket reminiscent of Clint’s jacket with the aqua inside liner, I even made the obligatory, “Hey, George Michael just came in, he wants his jacket back” joke. It’s almost as good as the “that looks like a weapon out of Braveheart” routine (ask Trevor).
11:33 am -- We’re still stocking the freezer while taking 30 second breaks every couple of minutes (yes, it’s that cold). After a while, one of the regulars comes by the front glass doors and the following exchange occurred:
Regular worker: Hey, can you guys take out this roast out of the bin; it has a rip in it.
Me: Sure, no problem.
Regular worker: Yeah, it probably got cut into when we were unloading the meat out of the boxes a couple of days ago…But after we’re done here you can take it home with you.
Me & EQ guy #1: uhhhhh…..(exchanging confused looks)
12:05 pm -- Well, our service for the day is capped off by some parting words, a closing prayer and tearful goodbyes (without the tears). I must say this was almost as good as working in grape fields eating sticky watermelon and dirt. Maybe next time we’ll be in the cannery, and I’ll finally be able to wear that hair net. Until next time...
12:05 pm -- Well, our service for the day is capped off by some parting words, a closing prayer and tearful goodbyes (without the tears). I must say this was almost as good as working in grape fields eating sticky watermelon and dirt. Maybe next time we’ll be in the cannery, and I’ll finally be able to wear that hair net. Until next time...
7 comments:
My favorite part was your reference to David Ruprecht. First, how much time did you waste searching for his name? You know you didnt know it before you thought of the joke...Or did you?!
I have never laughed so hard since last week when I came home from work and found our toliet sitting on the front lawn.(Luckily, no one was on it.)
Samantha-I'm with you. I really wonder how much research chad does before he actually posts the blogs. The question I have is who is going to write the blog about BYU's first game and get removed from Mom's half of the will?
Where is the retort, Chad? I apologize if I offended you.
You didn't offend me. Actually, it's true that i didn't know the guys name right off, and even if i did, i would never admit it.
Look, here's the deal. I know Samantha is getting all worked up just because they still haven't come out with the 1st season. But you, i have no clue.
I do some research but it is probably not extensive as you think. See, there's this thing called internet where you can find virtually any piece of information in a matter of seconds (or in Google's case with Supermarket Sweep, .08 seconds)
With that said, i'm still wondering what purpose BYU football plays in my life. It has caused quite a bit of introspection, good or bad.
Maybe i'll do a running diary of Tulsa if i can get over the loss and if i can get a live feed off the internet.
Also, i hope i didn't come across too negative, because it wasn't all that bad working at the BS (not a reference to mom's comment. It was fun and interesting for the most part.
That was seriously funny. The Kotex comment was my favorite. I hope that guy is the EQP or at least one of his counselors. So don't leave me hanging --- how was the roast?
Well, the guy who made the Kotex comment IS the EQP, a lawyer from BYU, and heading up the BYU Alumni (business) society here in San Antonio. He was made EQP about two months ago--well see if that stays.
And actually, the other EQ guy was one of his counselors (probably had to go, ie assignment) and the Prez kept razzing him and asking him if the fem products made him uncomfortable, as he was unmarried and all)
Good times all around
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