Attempted (read: failed) philanthropy

So, a bummer:

A week or so ago, I found out that some people in my area were getting together to put together a bake sale. The money would to toward Obama's campaign, and I thought this was the perfect opportunity to jump into YoP action! Because if you haven't picked it up by now, I love me some Barack Obama.

I got in touch with a woman who was really put together... the kind of person who leaves perfect voicemails with the phone number clearly stated at the beginning and end. Awesome. And Bradley was pumped up, and I was going to bake my special Splookies (cookies made with Splenda instead of sugar) and all would be delightful.

In one of her voicemails, the aforementioned woman mentioned that it might also help to bring something like lemonade because so many people had already signed up to bring baked goods. This ended up working perfectly for me when, on the night before the bake sale, my dad left a plastic-handled knife in the oven and I cooked it. I decided to pick up some absolutely succulent Chik-Fil-A lemonade in the morning instead of bringing cookies that tasted of plastic fumes.

Saturday, the day of the bake sale, everything went according to plan. I somehow wedged myself out of bed before the crack of noon (it's my Saturday tradition), shower up, and swing by Chick-Fil-A to get a gallon of iced tea and a gallon of lemonade. Just so you know, in case this comes up in your future... a gallon of iced tea is about $4. A gallon of lemonade is closer to $9.

So Bradley and I drive all over Beechmont looking for the bake salers, finally locating them in front of a small grocer's right off of Beechmont Avenue. Here's where things take a turn for the weird...

We approach the table carrying mounds of cups and our gallon jugs. We are all smiles as we approach the table... and no one really looks at us. Bradley and I cast each other glances and I say something inane like "We brought the lemonade!" One guy at the end of the table says unsurely that "You can probably set up here," and clears us a little space on the table. I set up the cups and notice that no one else has given me the time of day yet. Bradley doesn't even have room to stand by me and is kind of awkwardly just pacing around the side of the table.

So I try to make people talk to me. "Um. So! I don't know how much to charge for the lemonade." The woman at my side (there were probably four people there, selling) just shrugged. The guy, still the only one even trying to be helpful, says "Well I'll give you $1 for a cup right now." I thank my stars that I have something to do with my hands for a minute and I pour him a cup; he accepts it and disappears.

There are probably five more minutes of awkward standing around while I try to think of something to say or do here. I tell the woman next to me that I made a dollar; is there a communal till where I can put it?
WOMAN: What would you like?
ME: I sold some lemonade. Just not sure what to do with the money.
WOMAN: Is there something I can box up for you?
ME: ...No. I made a dollar. I sold some lemonade.
WOMAN: Oh! I thought you brought the lemonade.
ME: *stares*

At this point I am completely confused and still no one is talking to me. I am not sure how to combat this. Suddenly I hear through the grapevine that we are being asked to leave; we don't have permission to sell here, and we have to relocate. I ask where we are going, and no one responds as they all pack up their stuff. In their defense maybe no one knew where we were going, but I felt so outcast by then that I was over it. I gave Bradley a look-- he was still lingering by himself on the sidewalk-- and he gave me what I took to be nonverbal permission to bail. I gathered up the 95% full gallons and headed to my car. We drove home.

Basically, I spent $14 and made $1 for Obama's campaign. I met no new people, I had a miserable time, and I have a bad taste in my mouth. Thank gawd I didn't bake my fabulous cookies.

Since then, the organizer woman (who I believe was not at the table at the time, though I wouldn't know because no one introduced themselves even when I tried to tell them my name), called me later. She did not know that I had been there and left a very sweet message apologizing and telling me what had happened (about it being canceled because they had to leave, and she thought she had permission but not from the right person, etc). I am fairly certain that if she had been there things would have been different... someone would have at least said hello to me when I walked up carrying gallons of liquid for pete's sake.

And the saddest part is that I was rarin' to go, to get a good bit of philanthropy under my belt for a cause I truly believe in. I'm sure there will be more events like this in the near future but I know I'll hesitate next time (especially when it involves waking up on a Saturday, haha).