If you have been following the story of my life closely (and heaven knows why you should) then you will know that, following Monday afternoon’s Stuffing Of Envelopes task, my main job this morning was The Giving
Out of the Envelopes.
Let me recap for those of you who have neither the strength nor the inclination to re-read Monday’s blog. I don’t blame you,
I really don’t. Basically, all you need to know is that the Honorary Secretary of the Bowls Club and I spent a happy hour stuffing over a hundred envelopes with the papers for the forthcoming Bowls Club AGM. Incidentally, I don’t know if
I am an Honorary Assistant Secretary or not. What is the difference between being Honorary or Un-Honorary (if indeed there is such a word; if not, I have just made it up. I am good at that kind of thing)?
When I arrived at the Bowls Clubhouse this morning I found that space had been cleared for the envelopes, set out in two cardboard box lids with yellow post-it notes marking “Men”, “Women”, “Social
members”, “Associates” and one solitary “HLM” which I thought sounded like a record shop but is actually an “Honorary Life Member.” Honorary, you note.
Because I was aware that there were many members whose faces I would not recognise, I recruited Mr B to stand by my side and whisper people’s names in my ear. Unfortunately, while the spirit was undoubtedly willing,
the body took off over the other side of the clubhouse where he became embroiled in ensuring that the photo montage of this Summer’s competition winners (which he has been working on all week) was being correctly installed on the wall. Fortunately
my friend Val came to my rescue, standing at my side and ensuring I knew who was who. What would I have done without her?
The Honorary Secretary said I
should make sure that I did not allow anyone to enter the Clubhouse without giving them an envelope. Every envelope disposed of would save us 50p in postage. Money matters, don’t you know?
Well, give me a job and I will carry it out to the best of my ability. It is possible – just possible – that I occasionally take this to extremes. Hence, as soon as a person ventured through the Clubhouse door
I was onto them like a Rottweiler in a Red Jumper. I was a Woman on a Mission and my mission was to reduce the postage payable on the envelopes left in the cardboard lids once everyone had departed at the end of the Coffee Morning. There is nothing
like a Financial Incentive.
“Hi there!” I greeted each and every one. “Have an envelope!” (thrusting it into their hands) “There’s
no money inside, ha ha,” Most of them responded, weakly, with a “Ha Ha” of their own. “It’s the papers for the AGM,” I told them, as if I were handing over the Crown Jewels. Most of them looked singularly unimpressed.
The Club Captain rang the Club Bell and made a few announcements, including a request that anyone able to take envelopes for Absent Friends should visit me in my little corner.
This worked a treat and several more envelopes disappeared from my trays. Someone brought me a second cup of coffee and a mini Mars bar. It was like a small reward.
By 11.30 everyone was leaving. There were lots of “cheerios” all round. I counted up the envelopes left in my trays – just 24. The Honorary Secretary was well pleased. Apparently last year we had to post over forty envelopes.
We have improved on our performance of last year and I have saved the Club the princely sum of £8. Please don't ask me if it was worth the effort – it is the principle that matters.
My Rottweiler Act has paid off.