The charitable society that runs the thrift stores & parish groups held its annual thank-you dinner last night for staff, volunteers, & board members.
It's a low-rent affair, held in the concrete party room of an Italian-American restaurant. Don't imagine music, not even canned, or flowers, not even carnations.
Pasta in tomato or cream sauce and wet Caesar salad is set out in troughs. Forget the cannoli, dessert is mass-produced cookies.
You do get two tickets for free beer or wine and a ticket to enter a raffle. The prizes are new-in-box, plucked from donations--an air fryer, a tent, snow shoes, a spice rack.
The restaurant is 10 miles from my store. Few of my coworkers have cars, and few attend.
I got a ride, and I'm glad I did:
Big Boss presented me with a five-year award and a check for $125.
I'd have gotten these whether I'd been present or not, but honestly, it was nice to stand up and be thanked...
for five years of sharing her creativity, imagination, joy and energy with the store.I appreciate that while BB and I have . . . drifted apart, he'd chosen those nice words for the certificate.
I’m center below, in white shirt
I hadn't known I'd be recognized (though everyone at the five-year mark is), but I had a response to hand.
I said, "Last week a customer told me, 'Your store is a beacon in this neighborhood.' Whether or not you're directly connected with that store, every one of you in this room help keep that beacon lit."
All the way home, my ride and I grumbled about our store, and yet both of us said that despite the lack of Good Management, altogether we manage to do Good Works, and we’re glad to be part of that.
I twist and turn, but I always, always land on that conclusion.