Fundraisers–shoot me now

My friend, Sandra Tayler, wrote a brilliant post on live journal about school fundraisers.  Having recently traversed the fundraiser nightmare, I could not agree more.  I usually decline participation in fundraisers. I volunteer to speak at my children’s school for free and so feel that by saving them a couple of hundred dollars in my school visit fees, surely I am exempt from sending my children out to peddle unneeded and unwanted items to my neighbors (who don’t like me all that much anyway).

But this year, Murky had his eyes full of all the prizes he could win if he sold better than everyone else. This year, he felt a burning determination to become a salesman. I sighed the deepest, heaviest breath I’ve ever taken, and handed him a jacket as he went out into our neighborhood to torment people.

I did try to talk him out of it. I did explain that there was no possible way, in our little town, to sell enough absurd knick knacks to earn him the big screen TV.  My husband joined me in this.  But we failed. The child insisted. And so off he went, in a cluster of other boys that would put girl herds to shame there were so many of them. They did get orders and then promptly left the money on the sidewalk while they climbed trees and soaked themselves in the irrigation ditches.

To my sons’ credit, he sold a lot more than I ever would have imagined, and with a few lectures from my husband and me on the stewardship of other’s people money, actually turned the packet in with all money accounted for (even if the packet did have a major tear through the middle of it that had to be taped together, and even if one of the checks had dried dog saliva and muddy paw prints on it).

A few days later a couple of girls showed up in my store. Whenever a fundraiser is to be had, the kids in town automatically hit up the storeowners (me and my husband) They figure they give us business all year, we owe them when they want to sell something.  The fundraiser was for some dance thing. The girls were selling something unique. They sold Little Ceasars pizzas. I spent a lot of money between the two of them. Six dollars a pizza that would come frozen and ready to prepare any time I wanted to make it. (we’ve discussed before the shame  and disgrace I am to women everywhere as far as domestic skill goes .  . . the idea of frozen pizzas that taste decent seemed ingenious)

Most of the money from school fundraisers goes to the company  sponsoring the catalog. Very little of that money goes to the actual school. The pizza thing was different, but even in that I ended up in trouble since I bought from the first two girls and three others showed up later.

The fact that small children’s sad little faces are being used to manipulate me to make unplanned purchases drives me to the strait jacket.

I hereby declare the fundraiser fiends to be infidels of the worst degree. It’ll be a cold day in the hot place when I allow my kids to participate in another fund raiser. I’d rather mail a check to the school and be done with it. I’d rather do a weeks worth of writing seminars, literacy events and career day “my mom’s an author” stuff for each individual grade than deal with buying rolls of wrapping paper I don’t need. 

I’m writing a letter to the administration since I found the PTA doesn’t get to choose fundraisers, but rather, the administration does. I’m letting them know I’ve banned them from my parent guilt-trip-duty.