THE PAY AND BEG POLICY....MANIPULATION AT ITS BEST

So, I am granting myself a reprieve from the "no more non-vacation posts" decree.

Because it's homecoming week, people!!

And if anybody out there can think of something that is more blog worthy than homecoming at a small rural school, I'd like to know what it is.

Anybody?

Yeah, I though so.

Homecoming week for me, since I am an O.M. (Officer Mom) means many things - many exciting and wonderful things that I never dreamed I'd be lucky enough to experience.

LIKE BUILDING ANOTHER FLOAT. woot! woot!

In order to build a float, you first have to load a couple of teenage girls into your van and traipse through Menard's looking for just the right materials to make your float - materials that can be converted into something that conveys the theme of the parade. The theme is ROMAN. This trip to Menard's will involve speaking to many different staff members who will look at you as though you've grown a second head when you say "oh, we're going to use it on a float..." about all the different items you need to purchase.

My idea was to pull an empty flatbed behind our Jeep with a banner that says "Rome Wasn't Built in a Day." But that suggestion didn't go over well.

Unfortunately, I can't tell you our REAL float idea now because there might be moles from the other classes reading this blog and we don't want any of our FANTASTIC ideas being leaked to the wrong people. There is, after all, absolutely nothing at stake here - no prize money, no blue ribbon - so we need to be very careful.

Anyway, back at Menard's you and another O.M. have to get all those materials into your van and/or Tahoe only to find out the ply wood won't fit, causing you to have to make arrangements for somebody with a pickup to come back and get that later. Which will turn into a whole new adventure....

Then you meet at the appointed garage and start assigning tasks to the pack (pack? herd? gaggle?) of sophomores assembled there so we can get this float going. You also realize that JUST ACROSS THE STREET the freshman class will be building their float and you feel a little ashamed as you try to think of ways to send your sophomores over to spy on them to see what they are building. Maybe they could say they lost their frisbee?

This is all even more exciting if it occurs on a day that you are suffering a knock-you-off-your-feet migraine and your mail order prescription company has once again failed to deliver your medication.

So then.

Letters are traced. Items are painted. The school mascot is reproduced. The float is taking shape.

All the kids are working well and you are able to stand back and decide that it is not necessary to panic after all. This will get done.

And then you are hit with the realization that last year you GROSSLY underestimated how much candy would be needed to keep all the little parade watchers happy and - OH MY GOSH!!- where will all the candy come from? Because the officer parents simply can't donate everything!! Suddenly you are obsessed with candy.

Must. Find. Candy. Preferably one full ton.

This is where the manipulation comes in.

Since you need to buy flowers for the upcoming dance anyway, you go into the local balloon/flower/candy shop and order two corsages and one boutonniere (don't ask), and after you hand over waaaaay too much money, you casually say something like "Would you be interested in donating some candy for the parade so that our kids can throw it from their float?" And when the nice lady asks how much, you say "Whatever you are willing to give would be greatly appreciated."

And then you walk out with two pounds of Bit-o-Honey.

Then you go back to Menard's where you, just a few days prior, had spent waaaaay too much money on float supplies and ask the same question, only to be told that those requests have to go through their home office, which takes about two weeks. And you're really disappointed because, really, what's a giant bag of tootsie rolls to these people when you just put $170.00 on your credit card (for which you'll be reimbursed) to purchase supplies from their store?

But you refuse to be bitter so you thank them nicely and head to Pizza Hut where you are hoping to snag some pizza boxes.

Once again you decide to follow your "pay first, then beg" policy. So you order a salad bar to go and then casually ask how much they would be willing to sell their pizza boxes for, unless, you know, they'd be willing to DONATE them. Then you say the magic words..."The kids are going to use them on their homecoming float."

And the nice young man says he thinks he can give them to you but let him check with his general manager, as he pulls out his cell phone and - GREAT NEWS - the GM says you can have the boxes if you promise to come in and eat pizza sometime soon.

Ummm....pizza? Wow, what a sacrifice. So you reluctantly agree to come in for a pizza sometime soon (what's next - force feeding me chocolate?) and skip merrily to your van wondering how you can manipulate your husband into donating a new sofa to your living room.