I don’t pledge to United Way on my paycheck because we donate enough crap and money to individual organizations throughout the year. I have a thing about that. However, our company has the obligatory United Way campaign every year where we have a lunch, silent auctions, various items or activities you can buy, and, well, a decent parking space to bid on, if you want.

So, today we had a huge pre-Thanksgiving luncheon at the fire department for the kickoff meal. A potluck at which 50 percent of the foods donated were personally cooked, and 50 percent were bought, like mine and my boss’s. He said, realizing he had to make an introductory speech, “Can you go buy me a dessert and I’ll pay you back?” Dude, I’m going to buy my salad/condiment, so no problem.

I purchased some excellent broccoli salad and pasta salad and a fine sour cream bundt cake that I claimed full credit for producing. Both the contents and the plastic containers.

“Why yeah. I stayed up all last night pouring polymers into my molds, blowing on them to cool them and then shoving my foodstuffs into them just so. I did.” And I printed out little cunning price stickers with weights and content labeling. I did. Trust me. Shut up.

I arrived a bit early, hoping I didn’t have to participate in the setup (I didn’t) and hoping I could successfully avoid the cleanup (I did). But, of course, I got to schmooze the United Way person and her organization of the week.

Now, the organization of the week was a very worthy cause, a childcare thing that offers various services to children who have suffered really horrid stuff. So I’m not going to make light of that.

But, after schmoozing the United Way person, realizing that she was very new to her cause and job, and slightly nervous, I thought, crud, I’m her designated conversation person and we’ll sit and eat together and I’ll introduce the other employees that sit next to us, sliding their eyes back and forth hoping to not have to engage in deep conversation because it’s a United Way person.

She was very nice. We exchanged green bean casserole recipes and deliberated the merits of cranberry sauce, jello and smoked turkey. 

Then she had to get up and speak and she spoke. And spoke. And spoke some more. And more about how she only had to go to the doctor once for her foot problem, but the old people could really use help in their transportation services for their rehabilitation, and how she hadn’t realized the import of starting this job two months ago and you would not know how much they all cared about the mileage she had to drive to visit the various program facilities…

I, of course, having sat next to her and conversed pleasantly, was her designated eyeball connector-person. So, I couldn’ t just eat my sweet/sour/spicy pickles in peace (they were the BEST pickles ever and I need to figure out who brought them) nor could I finish my HoneyBee ham without looking like an ass. So, I smiled and paid attention.

Then she introduced the designated program person, who was Italian, as she pointed out, and would use her hands to illustrate her points. For several minutes. Close to a good portion of an hour there. Now, she was a grand speaker, full of energy and commitment, dragging pain and potential big bucks out of her audience, had the audience HAD big bucks. She had us going until the 40th minute passed, at which point those who hadn’t had a chance to pick up their desserts were getting restless and about ready to throw the remnants of the broccoli salad at the speaker. I noticed the HR director slinking up behind her with a hook, and the program person wisely wrapped up her spiel before we all fell asleep in our green bean casserole or beat her because the fudge was gone.

All in all, it was a productive luncheon. I spent money on a blue rubber bracelet that would entitle me to assorted fun stuff this week, none of which I’ll go to. But, in my own hypocritical way, I contributed, yet didn’t.

Those pickles were killer, though.