The Madness of Event Planning

Sometimes you just have to eat it.
And pretend to enjoy it.

Tonight was the first of 3 fundraising events for the Dance Group.
You want to have funds dispersed to your dancer you have to participate in a visible way.
I chose Kitchen as I have my FoodSafe course. I volunteered my ex-hubbie too.
He has his Course as well as incredible skill as a High-End waiter.
Amazing, aint it?

I also said I would make up the list of sponsors *if* I could do it on Thursday as Friday is a little too close to event time and I like to rest up for things where I know I have to expend energies I do not have in the evening time. Remember: I am NOT good after 8pm. And I generally am up at 5am at the latest. This event started at 6pm and I have to be there for 3:30.
(ugh)

The information for the Brochure did not arrive in my email box until very late last night.
---------------------* I was NOT HAPPY about that. *-------------------------

This morning I was even less pleased as more additions and revisions were added. Bye-bye relaxation time. Hello last-minute stress. I know myself very well after all these years. I know that I get an unnatural boost at events and then I pay in spades for it the next day. That is why I took tomorrow off. I also know I have to rest up and have alot of lead time and preparation or I get annoyed.


These are things I would change if it were possible. I have tried for decades... tried and tried and tried....

These traits I would prefer not to own, and I strive to change, but they reign supreme in me.
*I have a great need to be prepared. Printing off brochures at 1:00pm instead of enjoying a leisurely birthday luncheon with my sister was not a happy thing. Joining the luncheon late and having to fold and curl ribbon etc the second I finished eating was not a happy thing. Loosing my carkeys at 2:55 due to being overly distracted was not a happy thing.

I get in my car and drive to the event site.

I walk in the doors and *WHAM* there it is.

The energies surge. It is like I am about to take the stage. But of course I am not.I go into the kitchen to see what I can help with and find the caterer almost in tears. Seems she did not check out the kitchen in advance and brought nothing but the food.

The Hall supplied plates and cutlery. No pots. No bowls. No serrving items.
So her assistant is off getting these items while she waits as she does not have her FoodSafe (yet). So she cannot start cooking. I tell her *I do* and let's start cooking NOW.

It is painfully obvious we do not have enough time to get dinner ready.

Ex-hubbie arrives 1 hour late. Not bad for him.
I quietly explain to him we have a caterer in freak-out mode and he calmly begins to cook too.

I ask the Bar staff where the coffee is.
They tell me the Kitchen is doing the coffee.
I ask the Caterer and she tells me there is no coffee.
I know my Father is coming and he doesnt drink alcohol and doesnt like soft drinks.
I tell them I am whipping home to get my coffee-maker.
The caterer is upset. I don't have time to explain so I go to leave.
The assistant arrives and the caterer cries at her because we are *taking over*
I tell her she is the boss and just give me stuff to do and yaddda yadda make nicie nicie
and away we go.

I come back with the coffeemaker make a pot and who has the first cups? The caterer and her assistant and they thank ex-hub profusely for it. *hmph*
I discreetly serve dad coffee. Shhh!

The four people who have volunteered to serve do not seem to realise they are needed even though the clock is ticking ever closer to mealtime. We serve ten minutes late. Not bad for a meal with 45 minutes of delays. The MC can't figure out the microphone and doesnt announce it for another ten minutes. The Caterer is now in tears. Ex-hubbie goes out and smoothly gets people up and eating. The announcement is made.

The Servers show up but forget their jobs instantly and we have clients telling us what is running low. I hear a *smash* and whip out there with a broom and dustpan. Later I bring a wet rag and a dry one. It was a crockpot lid. Luckily broken BELOW the table.

I go in the kitchen and the Caterer says: "Who is doing the dishes?"
I arc my eyebrow and admit I do not know.
"Go ask ____ and tell her ___ wants to know who is doing the dishes."
They can't do this themselves?
Apparantly they cannot.
So I ask and the person tells me to tell the Caterer to take her apron off and come out and enjoy herself. Someone else will do the dishes.

As the someone elses are being trained on how to use the dishwasher I realise my father has been in the washroom for almost 25 minutes now. I knck on the men's room door. He is inside praying. I tell him to come out and buy a key prize and then let's go home. We walk back to the table and I can see every step is agony. I tell his table he is going home and he sits down to resume pretending it is all fine.

I grab him by the belt and hoist him up and say: "Come on Cinderellla. It is time to go home, I will drive you."

He gets up says his goodbyes and the second we are outside he turns to me and says:
"Was it that obvious?"
"can't fool me Dad. I know you."

We drive home and he is telling me how I must be getting tired of helping him out every day and how I must be ready to quit and how hard is must be for me.
*hmmm*
The Language of letting go.

"NOPE Dad I am not tired of you I am just plain tired. I have crap lungs and a head injury that means I have to monitor my energies. I need more sleep than most people. That's all."

He is concerned because I missed a day of seeing him. One day.
I make a mental note to myself to flesh this out later with him and drive back.
Ex-hub then follows me one more time home to dads and we leave the big beautiful car there and zip back.

But not before I go in and tell him:
"How can you think I could ever be tired of you? I waited my whole life to know you!
You are the gift in Mom's death. The only gift. I wouldnt trade knowing you for anything. I am HAPPY to help and don't ever think otherwise. I just need alot of sleep. Just remember that."

We whip into the hall where the two someone's are doing dishes.
The someone elses are sisters. One of them is working her butt off. The other one is whining and complaining about her homework and not helping at all. I tell her I can do her job and go home if you need too. She leaves in a millisecond.

SO: we do 98% of the cleanup.
I have a chronic complainer who has been critisizing every step of the way.
She wants to know if we have decaf.
She sends people over for coffee.
We are finished the cleanup now and I want to get home to check on Dad.
I make tea for the ladies who really want coffee.
And then we go home.

As we are leaving another parent says to me: "You're going home already?"
I tell him I am tired. I tell him I signed up to help serve. And well...
"The first year I did concession" , he says, "I thought all I had to do was shop."
I remind him (again) I signed up to help serve.

I could have said "ya know I have been working on this event since 10 this morning...."
I could tell him: "I have run festival kitchens for 10 days with 200 volunteers and done it SOLO" but I don't.
I could tell him: "Thank man. Goodnite now."
But I let him think I am a big wuzz and we just leave.
My sister thinks I am being harsh again as I tell him to tell the caterer she did I good job.
"I already did" he says.
"Tell her again," I say, "I think she is a person who needs to hear it a few dozen times before she believes it."
"Ok, I will."

The Caterer needs to hear it from the right people.
THEN she will believe it.
But she is getting credit for a good job becus ex-hub and I worked our asses off.
(except mine seems to still be there.... drat it all)

When this event was in the planning stages, I saw the chink in the armour right away as the kitchen. It sounded wrong in every way as it was explained to me. So I slotted myself and my ex in there.

There were other big huge chinks but that one was the one I plugged.
These people worked about 8 times as hard as they needed to due to lousy planning and poor communication. ALL OF THEM.

I could have done that event myself.
But don/t tell them that.
Not only wouldn't they have believed it, they would be offended to think I could have the nerve to think that.

Oh and the MC was the shits too.
heh
Actually he was _all right_ but for Fundraisers _all right_ aint good enough.

All I said as I left was to a parent helper who worked very hard:
"we need to have a meeting after this to review what worked and what did not and how to improve on it for next time."

Damned straight.
It made money.
We had awesome prizes in the end due to a few key people.
And no bums in seats.
But we made money.

I believe I can fly.
I wish others did too.
We can all fly high.
-------------


'buggery 1 bollucky -oh-eight in the am and I am still bloody buggery awake. DAMN that energy surge. I am so tired. But oh no... I blog buggery blog.' ---