Alright ... check this out. This is the pit of hell in which I work. We have a "social club" at my agency. Dues are $12 a year. We don't take buses to ball games ... or go on shopping trips around the holidays. Basically, a dollar a month guarantees you a flower arrangement or gift should you get married, have a baby, or lose a loved one.
In my fifteen years of employment, I've "dipped in the well" twice. They threw a small shower when (my ex-husband) and I eloped ... and they sent a flower arrangement last year when I lost my dad. No, it's not much ... but it's something.
Now for the back story. The bi-laws state that you can only spend $25 on any one occasion. It's been this same meager amount since the dawn of man. So, naturally we go over most times and just pass a hat to cover anything the social club doesn't pick up. Nobody has ever had an issue with this trend ... until today.
One of my co-workers had a baby. Okay, there's always an ass that points out that he didn't have a baby ... but, Jesus, I'm never sure how I'm supposed to word this kind of thing. How PC do you wanna get? Should I say, "A co-worker of mine contributed his DNA to a child that was born of a woman he was legally binded to and knew in the biblical sense?"
In any case ... on most occasions like this, we buy a cake, serve punch, and get a small gift ... like one of those cutsy baby outfits. Point being, nobody is going to buy a cake, punch, and gift for $25 unless they're exclusively shopping at the local "Dollar Tree". So, as usual, the social club went over ... and sent out a cheerful e-mail asking everyone to donate one dollar to cover the cost for the shower.
One dollar. One ... measly dollar.
One dollar will buy you a Mountain Dew from my office vending machine. One dollar could also buy you a Honey Bun from a similar machine down the hall. One dollar will buy you 1/3rd of a gallon of gas. One dollar might also buy you one taco from Taco Gringo on Taco Tuesday.
One ... fucking ... dollar.
Yes, you guessed it. Two of my delightful co-workers announced they were not contributing a dollar. One claimed it was because she was just too strapped financially to help. The other claimed it was on principal ... because no one asked his permission to go over the $25 allotment.
It was like some twisted atom bomb of disfunction went off in our office. E-mails were flying ... accusations of racism were cast ... and the day culminated in a screaming match which ended with the words, "your fat ass."
It would've been funny ... if it weren't so damned annoying. It's a dollar, people. Just a dollar. Get over it.
You wallow in the guilt; you wallow in the pain
You wave it like a flag, you wear it like a crown
Got your mind in the gutter, bringin’ everybody down
Complain about the present and blame it on the past
I’d like to find your inner child and kick it’s little ass
Eagles - Get Over It