Let Me Tell You

In Korea, there is a man. His name is Ray. He is a good man. He is from Chicago. Ray often used (uses? I hope he is still going strong...) this phrase: "let me tell you." Hearing him say that made me smile, because he was always excited about what he was going to tell next, and was hoping that you would ask. Yesterday I felt that same, sort of. And a couple people asked me, "Reuben, how was your afternoon? Where were you the whole time?" And I grimaced and said, "Well! Let me tell you..."

The YouthWorks! Friday has a distinct number of events that must occur. Basically, after the kids leave, the staff takes a nap, goes over evaluations, and breaks off to do individual tasks for about an hour. My individual task is to get this giant fax together, go fax it, mail a lot of what I faxed and a multitude of other paperwork. After the other three are done, they go shopping; they are supposed to get done before I do and then I go find them when I finish.

The last two weeks this seemingly standard schedule had been thrown off by delightful things, one delightful thing being a large, scrumptious breakfast with the Steubenville staff, another delightful thing being a trip on the Maid of the Mist. This week there were no such obstacles, so we attacked our tasks with vigor. Around 1 PM I had my entire fax together. I asked Deaconess Dru to fax it for me, and she did, and we had a pleasant talk about basketball and American/Canadian border city economics. Additionally, Ben, the boss, showed up as I was finishing. So, all things considered, things were lookin' swell. Which is exactly where things inevitably go south.

I went to Tops grocery store to finish off our sizable shopping list. While there, I received a text from the aforementioned boss: "i received bits and pieces of your fax." This had happened before, and by that I mean Ben had forgotten to capitalize his "i." But, in reality, the fax sent from the church had often not gone through completely. When I got the text, I rolled my eyes and kept shopping, because that is what I love to do.

Upon arriving back at the church, I demanded to see what the problem with the fax was. I figured that a few of the fifty-some pages hadn't come through cleanly. Ben showed me the fax, which comes through to his e-mail account in an electronic blaze of glory. Nine pages had survived, although one was the back of a page. I was flabbergasted. If that fax had been in the Major Leagues, it would have been batting .170, which is enough to get designated for assignment faster than my brother can moon someone from Sioux County. Deaconess Dru had gone home for the day; the other free faxing option at Zion Lutheran had also expired. It was, after all, 4 PM by this point. Which had been the time we were shooting to get done by! And, indeed, all the shopping had been completed. There was just this fax that lingered, like a zit that you've popped but couldn't quite completely empty of pus.

I called a few office supply places; the "cheapest" was fifteen miles away. So, grabbing a bag of sunflower seeds that some kid had left behind and gritting my teeth, I set off to take care of business.

4:27 PM: I set out for Office Depot, as it is the cheapest fax option in western New York. I have the directions written on my hand.
4:50 PM: I arrive at the address that I'd been shooting for; it is Eaton Office Supplies, and it is closed, and I'm a moron.
4:52 PM: Rain starts pouring down. I roll up my window and decide to just spit the seeds on the floor.
4:54 PM: I call Lisa and she reroutes me from Amherst where I was to North Buffalo. I set out.
5:18 PM: I spend five minutes in backed up traffic because the entire street up ahead is blocked off by fire trucks and ambulances. I never did get to see what happened. I hope it was Jim Kelly trying to steal somebody's Super Bowl ring.
5:25 PM: I pull into the desolate Office Depot parking lot. This store is the most barren place I've ever seen, and the staff is the most rag-tag group I could imagine. The guy who helped me reminded me of a nice version of Milton from Office Space. He kept calling me "guy," which I dig. He put this young guy, who I suspect is really really good at World of Warcraft, on task to help me with the fax.
5:35 PM: I get the fax, which had been reorganized in order to mail, back in order and we send it off.
5:55 PM: I draw a large abstract piece on the back of a page I don't have to fax. I suspect it will go for at least a grand; e-mail me if you're interested in purchasing it.
6:10 PM: Milton informs me that it looks like only forty of the fifty-one pages went through. He doesn't know which ones didn't make. There's not really a good way to tell.
6:11 PM: I call Ben to see which ones I should resend. He doesn't answer.
6:12 PM: I call Ben again. Nothin' doin'. It turns out he was sleeping.
6:13 PM: I text Stockton: "Are you with Ben?" Nothin'.
6:15 PM: I decide to leave and sort out those details later. I pay the bill, which is over a third of my office supply and postage budget.
6:20 PM: I get in the Bronco and try to start the thing. Nothing happens. I realize that the lights had been left on. By me.
6:28 PM: After exhausting my vocabulary of awful expletives, I go seek help from Milton. He calls this young but good-hearted associate who looked like he'd probably played for Nirvana to give me a jump.
6:35 PM: I leave the parking lot, bound and determined.
6:45 PM: I realize I'm going the wrong way on I-290. I consider trying to find my boss's boss Heather, who lives in Buffalo, instead of going back to the church, just to vent. I redirect my route onto traffic-light-ridden Niagara Falls Blvd/US-62.
6:50 PM: Against company policy, I call Orvis while driving.
7:10 PM: My phone abruptly dies and will not turn back on.
7:20 PM: I empty the recycling that had been stinking up the vehicle the entire time.
7:35 PM: I arrive back at the church.
7:38 PM: I see some bags of garbage that didn't get taken out and grab them, only to find fluid leaking turbulently from the bottom all over the linoleum.
7:50 PM: I collapse in a heap, finally done with my daily tasks, three hours and fifty minutes after I was hoping to be. I still do not know which fax pages got through.

Yup. The week from which all said paperwork came was a solid one. The groups were good. Two had not been on YouthWorks! trips before, and one had been...many, many times. I was intimidated by the latter crowd, but, having been on mission trips to Niagara Falls more times than I had, they knew what they were doing. Details:

*At the cookout on Thursday, there was some horseplay going on, and at least five or six people ended up in a large, muddy puddle against their will. The last of those interactions involved a possibly homeless man throwing Wesley into the muck. He will not be invited back...

*Some kid asked if he could wear my name tag, and I said he could only if he came on stage and made an announcement of my choice that night during club. So I gave him a brief script, and that night he came up and said, "Whoever is clogging all those toilets in the girls bathroom...please stop! It is not funny." Some people laughed, but a lot of the crowd was like, "What? How does he know?" The dude did it with a completely straight face, and he used this perfect adamant tone; I told him later to make sure he applied for YouthWorks! as soon as he could, which isn't for five years or so. I was reminded of when Orvis and I had Sherry Mortenson talk about wild packs of vicious dogs taking over major U.S. cities at Airband. No one really understood it except us. Which I am surprisingly okay with.

*On Wednesday we served ice cream, and I know I don't have to mention that that necessitates a pre-wash bucket where everyone rinses off their bowl in warm, soapy water. Lisa and I have gotten into the habit of having an ice cream pre-wash chugging contest at the beginning of club each Wednesday. Last week we used little cups and tied. This week we used large cups and I won. I might also add that we talked about having Oreos and milk instead of ice cream on Wednesdays, because it would be easier to prepare and clean up, but I think we are going to continue serving ice cream so we can keep drinking the warm, chocolatey liquid up front.

*The large group who'd been here before loved to prank each other. Someone stuck Oreos all over someone's vehicle...Oreos that, if you are wondering, still taste fine a day later:



Other pranks involved pink streamers and shaving cream all over a different car, an organized attack with flour sacks and water balloons on the group's leaders during the cookout, and sawed-off shotguns.

*One of our work projects was next to a known crack house.

*He Who Shall Remain Nameless made it to the cookout but, unfortunately, had different articles of clothing ripped off in a struggle. He wasn't super pleased about that and probably won't be going to the cookout for the next couple weeks as a consequence.

*Some kid came up to me and asked me if I could make an announcement about how it wasn't okay to pull people's pants down, especially not when they are on a ladder, and especially not when the family next door is all sort of hanging out on their lawn, watching.

*Lisa was investigating a possible house to paint. She talked to a woman at the front door who directed her toward the back, where the husband allegedly was. Lisa knocked on the back door, and the home owners' daughter burst out in her underwear and yelled, "Dad! Someone here for ya!"

*One of the groups that was here this week was from the same church as a group who'd been here the first week. The trip leader this week said he'd gone to pick the leaders from the first week up and three of them had been sitting in the back of a van singing "The Moose Song."

Yup. Now all that remains between us and next week is the Fourth of July. Go shoot a bottle rocket into someone's eye for me, eh?



One last thought:

During Early Bird, and since then as well, I have been learning a massive amount about life and YouthWorks! from my area director Ben, and one thing that I really took away from him during that first preposterous week was this:

Always carry a camera in case something worth taking a picture of presents itself.

Examples:
-Lisa eating worms
-Chaperones picking kids up and dunking their faces into water fountains
-Chaperones picking kids up and dunking their entire bodies face-first into garbage cans
-Chaperones rolling across long lines of sleeping boys in order to wake them up
-Weird people around town, like this dude that Wesley and I saw on a lawnmower going down Walnut Avenue...his mode of transportation was not as startling as his enormous rat tail haircut.
-Participants throwing each other and staff members into large mud puddles

I have tried to take advantage of these opportunities. However, I either straight up leave the camera at the church, forget I have the thing with me, fail to get it out or on in time, or (this is most infuriating) the batteries die. Even after I purchase new [extremely off-brand] ones for $7.00 moments before I need the camera to work. Sigh.

I started thinking about this in Seoul, where it was modeled to me by Ms. McCarthy, whose camera came in handy more than once. I like when people take a lot of pictures, especially candid ones. I just haven't always felt any urge to be that guy. So I will try to walk the line from now on.

Thus, my promise and my vow. This is going to change. More interesting pictures will be taken. Hold me accountable.

KOREAN SIDENOTE:
Sorry. Quickly:
1) On Tuesday, I got my visa for my return trip to South Korea.
2) There is still a fifth grade student who I taught at Poly School who e-mails me. I have sucked at keeping in contact with anyone this month, and last, and so he sent me a message that said: "Not going to Poly anymore. Talk to me."
3) I miss the Poly kids! A surprising amount! Sometimes YouthWorks! participants make the mistake of asking me about them, and I unload.
4) Word has reached me that the teacher who replaced me quit Poly this week and that the teacher who replaced Bernard, whose last day was the same as mine (or vice versa?), is also quitting in two weeks. I feel more justified in my decision than ever.