June 29, 2000
Dear Everyone:
Last night’s Letter was pre-empted by the June
ARMA Dinner Meeting.
Normally, these meetings take place on a Tuesday or, more
recently, on Thursdays. But
this month, things kept getting in the way and they ended up holding it
on Wednesday. Also normally,
this would have created a Problem since Wednesday is Letter Night.
But it just so happens that I’m home all this week, so I figured
I could write The Letter Wednesday afternoon.
However, plans change.
I had arranged for an electrician to come and look at the kitchen
light fixture, which hasn’t been working right for some weeks.
The middle light tube had gone out and I couldn’t get the
replacement to work. My
Fix-It-Yourself Book suggested that the ballast might need to be
replaced. Since this was
electrical and, literally, over my head, I chose to pay someone else to
do the work.
The technician was scheduled to arrive somewhere
between 10:00 and Noon. At
12:30, they called me to say that he was running just a little bit late;
they would call me when he was on his way.
At 2:19, they called to tell me that he had finished the job in
Danville
and was on his way right over.
At 3:25, I called them to say that he hadn’t shown up yet.
They said, “The technician has been dispatched and will be there
within 10 minutes.” (Sounds
like the hostess at the restaurant who always says the wait will be 15
minutes, regardless of how long it will take to get a table.)
The technician arrived promptly at 3:30.
By the time he was finished, it was after 4:30 and I needed to
start getting ready for the dinner.
So, no time for The Letter.
Which leads us to this afternoon.
And why was it so important to attend an
association dinner? Several
reasons. Number One:
June is when they install the new Board of Directors, which means
(drum roll, please), as of last night, I am OFF the Board.
No more Board Meetings.
(Although I will wait to see if the new president and/or
membership director want me to continue to maintain the membership
database, which I have at work.)
Number Two:
The Silent Auction.
This was an idea shamelessly stolen from another chapter.
At the Silicon Valley chapter,
they gave out fake money, which they named “Silly Bucks” to members to
induce them to participate more in the chapter activities.
We decided to adopt the same approach, but since we are the
Mt. Diablo chapter, we named
the fake money “Diablo Dollars”.
The only way to bid on items at the Auction was with Diablo
Dollars.
And the only way to get Diablo Dollars was by doing
various things for the chapter.
For instance, if you showed up at a dinner meeting at all, you
got $100. Hosting a dinner
meeting (which means roping someone in to be a Speaker) nets you $250.
Bringing a guest to a meeting gets you another $250.
The denominations went up to $1000.
I’ve been raking in Diablo Dollars all fiscal year.
And what would I want to bid for with all these “dollars”?
Well, letters went out to various companies, asking them to
donate items for the Auction.
My boss got one of these letters.
After I explained to him what it was all about, he said he would
authorize me to spend up to $50.00 for a donated item, then get
reimbursed by the company.
(This alone brought me $500 in Diablo Dollars.)
What to get?
What to get? I played
around with various ideas, then decided that I would buy something the I
would like to have, then try to bid on it.
If I won the bid, I would be getting something for nothing.
It’s the American Way.
The Saturday before
Mother’s Day is a perfect time to visit the jewelry department at
Macy’s.
(By making the purchase at Macy’s with my card, I would also get
points for the cost of the item.
When I accumulate enough points, they send me a Rewards
Certificate worth $25.00, redeemable only at Macy’s.
Hey, these guys aren’t dumb.)
I found a pair of
amethyst earrings
for $49.95. “Jeannie” was
horrified that they weren’t on sale, even though I explained to her that
they weren’t going to cost me anything.
“Jeannie” thinks paying Full Price for anything is Sacrilegious
whereas I have learned that If You Wait for Them to Put It on Sale, They
Won’t Have It in Your Size.
(This is especially true of shoes, for some reason.)
So I bought the earrings and sent them to the
Auctioneer, thus getting another $500 in Diablo Dollars.
I also got reimbursed on my next expense account.
And I made some small donations on my own:
A Christmas Stocking Stuffer that was cute for five minutes and
then became old hat; some scented bars of hand soap that “Jeannie” had
given me for my birthday, apparently not having noticed that I had
switched to liquid antibacterial soaps some months earlier.
There were additional “bonuses” towards the end of
the year for attending all the dinner meetings (missed one, but it
wasn’t my fault since I had to stay and work late that night), for
attending 5-6 meetings (in the bag), etc., etc., etc.
Bottom Line:
I had $9450 by the time the Big Night arrived.
The way a Silent Auction works is:
Each item is given a number, along with some information about
who had donated it. There is
a sheet of paper with the corresponding number on it, along with lines
to write in your name and your bid.
During the dinner, people got up to look over the assorted (about
two dozen) items and place their bids (much to the chagrin of the server
who was trying to get around them to serve dinner).
If someone else had already bid, you made your bid a little bit
higher.
Those earrings were a hot item.
The Auctioneer had called me after I made the donation,
predicting that I would have plenty of competition since even the men
might want to get them as a gift (or a quick “get-out-of-the-doghouse”
card). I also made bids on
some other items that might be nice to have, particularly a
Thomas Kinkade
book that I knew a certain co-worker would like to get.
However, every time someone stopped near Item #10,
I would get up to see if I needed to increase my bid for the earrings;
and pretty soon, the other items were off my list.
Ultimately, the $49.95 earrings went for $8500, which I believe
was the single highest bid for an item.
That left me with $950, which didn’t get me anywhere as even the
grab bag pieces went for over $1000.
I even tried giving them to the woman next to me to see if she
could get something else, but to no avail.
Once people realized that any leftover “money”
could not be carried over into the next fiscal year, they were bidding
the farm on anything that moved.
It was actually a lot of fun.
The outgoing president of the
Golden Gate chapter was delighted to get that Stocking Stuffer,
particularly when I informed her that it already had a battery in it.
And two women bid feverishly against each other for the scented
bars of soap. Afterwards, I
called “Jeannie” to tell her that her “donation” had sold for $1300.
And I have a lovely pair of amethyst earrings to
show for my trouble. Now,
onward…
Chicken Run
is a fabulously funny movie.
Based on every World
War II POW
movie the producers could get their hands on, it tells the tale of a
flock of chickens who are trying to escape from the chicken farm.
They try digging their way out (with a soup spoon); they try
disguises; they try tunneling.
They always get caught.
There are marvelous references to scenes from
Stalag 17,
The Great
Escape and
The Wooden
Horse. But even if
you’ve never seen any of those classics (as the kids certainly hadn’t),
you’ll get a kick out of it.
It’s filled with stereotypes.
Ginger, the ring-leader, doesn’t look anything like
Richard
Attenborough, but who cares?
There’s the nervous hen who’s always
knitting something.
(And “Jeannie” pointed out, she’s
really knitting!)
The standard, stuffy old codger from the
RAF (the only
rooster in the camp). The
engineer who has such a
Scottish
accent that Rocky, the
Rhode Island Red,
a wise-cracking Yank
(played by Mel Gibson)
swears she isn’t using real words.
The hens think Rocky is the answer to their prayers
because he flew over the fence and, if he can fly into the camp, he can
teach them to fly out of it.
Rocky, a natural con artist, goes along with it as far as he can and the
results are hilarious.
The attention to detail is astonishing.
Chickens that knit, for heaven’s sake!
Don’t be surprised if this one shows up on Oscar night next
March. By all means, go and
see this one. If you can
remember
The Great
Escape, try to count the number of visual references to
Steve McQueen’s
“Cooler King”.
Love, as always,
Pete
| Previous | Next |