When I left my professional life to become a stay-at-home mother, it was impossible for me not to throw myself into any volunteer opportunity that crossed my path. Need someone to call people and ask for money? Pick me! Need someone to run a Girl Scout troop? Pick me! Need someone to run an auction? Pick me! I became the Über volunteer, the one often mocked by other parents. Once I made my way through all the school positions—room parent, campaign co-chair, board member—I had to find another outlet to use my enthusiasm for doing work without pay. The problem was, I really had no pet causes.
So, 10 years ago, when my friend Colleen asked if I wanted to get involved in the Foster & Adoptive Care Coalition’s new event, Old Bags, it seemed like a perfect fit. First, I love my friend and she wanted me to recruit other people as part of my team—fun! Second, I like kids (most of them anyway), and what better way to help them than through an organization whose goal is to find ‘forever families’ for children in the foster care system? Third, it involved new and slightly used designer handbags. Need I say more?
I knew that with a little bit of wine, the bags would fly out of there and the event would be a success. I‘d had experience with other auctions and, not to take too much credit, they were all successful. It was that hubris that by the end of the evening landed me in the bar with all the friends I had recruited, wondering how so much could have gone wrong when all the stars were clearly aligned!
You see, my role for the event was to make sure that the winning bidders paid and got the right bag. Not a big deal, until you realize five minutes into the auction that the Internet connection you’re using is slower than a dial-up modem from 1990. It is also at that moment you realize that once a woman has purchased a designer bag, she wants to claim it, right then and there, regardless of what tempting appetizers or wine may be around. Now,
I have worked in retail, so long lines don’t faze me. But long lines of women impatient to make their designer bag payment donations, and get their hands on those bags, is another story. The grumbling that ensued as they realized each transaction would take at least five minutes, literally, made my stomach churn.
So we did what Oprah would do. We just started saying, ‘You have a purse, you have a purse, you have a purse!’ Then we started writing down their credit card numbers or asking for a check. Somehow, in their haste to claim their bags, these women trusted we would not be heading to Plaza Frontenac for shopping excursions. Everyone got their purses, and the donations were processed the next day.
It took me years to return to the event. I’m not sure if it was defeat or embarrassment that kept me away, but I finally went last year, and what a blast! Great bags, appetizers and wine, and finally someone competent handling check-out. It’s coming up again on April 20 at The Ritz-Carlton. Visit foster-adopt.org/oldbags for details. I will be there, in search of a perfect new bag. Don’t get in my way. I have sharp elbows.
Contact Patty at phannum@townandstyle.com.
