As of late, there has been some huge drama going on at work. I would love to blog about it, you would love to read about it, but due to some professionalism, I cannot.
I know, no fun.
On to the next story.
This weekend I volunteered to help out as a skating coach, filling in for someone who was absent. Let's think about what it means to be a volunteer, shall we? Show up for your commitment and do what you have commited to do to the best of your ability. I did that. Do not get paid. I have not been renumerated in anyway for what I did. What did I expect in return? Maybe a thank you. Which I did receive from the other coaches. I did not expect any interaction with parents.
Today, a 5 year-old boy got on the ice. He was part of the group that is just learning to skate. Children learning to skate spend just about as much time with their butts on the ice as they do on their skates Snow pants are a very good idea (cushion the fall as well as protect the tush from the cold). Mittens are essential. One child was impatiently sent on the ice without mittens. I told his parent that he really needed mittens. They found some. Great, all is well, the lesson continues. I spent 45 minutes with a group of children smiling, being positive, cojoling, giggling, having fun and picking them up off the ice when they just couldn't bare to do it themselves, one more time. It was fun and I really enjoyed it.
When we got off the ice the parent gruffly asked me what the note they had received was about. Uh, well, I'm new and I have no idea. But you can read it, sir. Upon entering the dressing room, his son's boots were missing. He was quite upset with the situation, which is understandable. He was also upset with me, as I was not helping him out. Sir, remember me? Picking up your child off the ice for 45 minutes? I could not possibly be responsible for the whereabouts of the boots. I suggested a few places he could check, which he deemed to be illogical. I continued on my merry way, irrititated that he felt this was my responsiblity.
This is a small irritation that reflected a much, much larger problem, irritation, self doubt and true agony that my real job has provided me. But I can't write about the real job. So just read the small story and imagine a big story.