For the past, oh, year-and-a-half, I've been spending my Wednesday evenings at a nearby assisted living center, volunteering in what's called "Gather and Gab"--a coffee/ice cream/gift shop. And I swear that it keeps me sane. This week, especially, was a challenging one at work. Nothing bad happened, it just seemed like every day, I couldn't make any progress on my to-do list. Everything that came across my desk was Hot!, and back-to-back-to-back meetings were more common that usual. Anyway, by the time Wednesday rolled around (which felt like it should have been Friday), I was so ready for what's become my Wednesday Night Normal. The experience has become so standard, it feels like therapy. Here's the breakdown:
1) Come home from work, eat some leftovers (or a bowl of cereal) for dinner, and watch 22 minutes of Rachel Ray making waffles with bacon inside. Or macaroni with barbecue sauce. Or burgers made of ground-up ham.
2) Decide I really don't want to leave the couch and contemplate calling a substitute to fill in for me.
3) Remember what a pain it was to find a sub the one and only time I called in sick.
4) Drag my butt off the couch. Change into jeans. Drive the two blocks Wesley Acres. (What?! It's dark outside! And cold.)
5) Wait 20 minutes for my first customer. There's a stuffed toy duck that dances and quacks when you squeeze its foot. She plays it three times and leaves.
6) Two or three people pop their heads in to say hello and comment how slow business is.
7) Organize the greeting cards. Contemplate buying my future mother-in-law a pair of clip-on earrings. Rearrange the sassy magnets. ("Today I will master the art of doing nothing.")
8) A group of women arrives and I make them free ice cream cones. Dorothy remarks on my superior scooping skills and comments that I'm very strong. I agree with her.
9) Hazel and I have the same exact conversation we have had for the past year. It begins with me describing where my hometown, Morris, IL is and ends with her asking me if I know her slender, dark-haired daughter-in-law Dana. Unfortunately, I don't.
10) Charlotte tells a joke about lemmings. We all laugh because it actually is a very funny joke.
11) Meanwhile, an elderly, power-walking man passes our shop 12 times.
12) The clock strikes 8:00. We clean-up and say our goodbyes.
Of course, there are minor variations to the routine. Sometimes Hazel comes alone. Sometimes a couple will stop by after going out to eat to take some ice cream back to their apartment. Sometimes a daughter comes in with her mother, and they try on necklaces. Sometimes the stories are much much better than others. For instance, Hazel and her husband lived in Saint Louis during the time the arch was being constructed. She was a secretary for an advertising agency that worked with some big-name clients. Like Coca Cola. Very Mad Men. Other times, their stories are heartbreaking. Charlotte lost a young daughter to breast cancer.
No matter what, though, I always end up leaving Gather and Gab feeling fantastic. I still can't pinpoint what it is. To be honest, some nights are super boring, but there's always someone that does or says something that just makes me feel good inside and so glad that I decided to come. It's one of the biggest things I'm going to miss when I move to Boston.
*I'd also like to note that everyone I encounter is overwhelmingly grateful and appreciative. Of me, of the staff, of each other. It's inspiring.
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