The hidden pitfalls of volunteering
When I was at the aquarium yesterday, I picked up an application to be a volunteer there. Glancing at the front page, I could tell that it wouldn’t work; the schedules they had all conflict with my school–plus, the aquarium is a good half-hour or more away, depending on traffic.
Still, I’ve been amused by the application–I’ve filled out less-intense applications for jobs. You know, where they’d actually pay me. I was also amused by the variety of tasks they trust to volunteers–like husbandry and throwing birthday parties. Which I guess explains the intense application, you’d be working with small children and delicate, expensive animals.
Even with the whole weirdness of the situation, I was kind of tempted to apply anyway for an education position. I’m an insufferable know-it-all, I might as well be an official insufferable-know-it-all, right?
And, in a segway that is both seamless and unnoticeable, I somehow got talked into heading to my parent’s house tomorrow. I’m still not 100% sure how that happened.
This is the situation–there is a guy I went to high school with–he was in the grade just above mine, who suddenly died of a massive heart-attack last Saturday. His funeral is this Saturday. Both Mom and Sis want to go to the funeral–and Mom chastened me when I told her I wasn’t planning on going, until I explained that I don’t think I’ve ever said two words to this guy, and I know I haven’t talked to his wife in the past 11 years.
And I’m still going.
Actually, it’s because G’s been a handful lately (Sis, you should appreciate the careful editing I did of the first word I used) and Mom wants me to help Dad watch he and E while she and Sis are at the funeral.
I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t want to go, but, as I’ve already established, I can’t say ‘no’ to my family. Which means I’ll end up going and resenting every minute I’m there. Unless Mom reads this in the mean time, and calls and makes me feel guilty for agreeing to go when I don’t really want to…