This is another blog entry further regarding my volunteering experience with PROJECT HOPE.
Recently, I had almost broken a volunteering rule or two. I hadn't taken the possibility into account that someone would ever approach me with a phone number. They told me of connections they had with certain organizations that would secure a good future. In an unstable economy like our own, this is a promising offer.
Not sure how to handle the situation, I had told the other two volunteers present of the situation. They stood guard as he tried to slip me an empty box of Nerds candy with his number listed on the inside.
We promptly threw the number away, one of the other volunteers reporting the incident to a supervisor.
Awkwardly enough, the approacher had continued to plan to contact him, asking to meet up at the XXXXXXXXXXX Library, which was a near by public building. I pretended to be unaware of it's location.
The whole thing was just... Terribly awkward.
I've also learned our relations to supervisors.
It's complicated, but I got it down.
Monday, December 2, 2013
Thursday, November 21, 2013
As a required assignment for PSL, I've been asked to write about a person I've met that has affected me in some way or form. Well, this is that post. Hopefully it will keep me from drowning in my own failure. It's dark below C-level. I don't know how fish survive, day in and day out.
So, I've been accumulating service hours for PSL through volunteer work at a homeless shelter called PROJECT HOPE. It's your typical homeless shelter, though small in size, on the verge of a huge expansion. There's been a lot of talk about the expansion I've overheard, but I don't think I'll waste that just yet. Possibly on a later post? We'll have to see.
At PROJECT HOPE, the typical shift goes from 7-11, with three volunteers, two staff members and the people seeking shelter at the time.
My first trip alone to PROJECT HOPE was borderline deadly. On the freeway, I was caught in a horrific rainstorm, so hard that the windows on my 2013 Kia Soul began to leak on impact. For some reason, my defoggers had quit functioning, (Later had I discovered that unlike my previous car, the vents had to be on for the defogger to function.) and I wound up in XXXXXX, XXXX. That's a good ten minutes in the wrong direction. Fortunately, inexperience had caused me to leave an hour early, as I had no prior knowledge of the fifteen minute tracks it takes to get there. Turning around and depending heavily on a miracle, I traversed blindly and eventually made my way to XXXXXXXXXX, XXXX. Not QUITE there, but close. Very close. With the ability to see, it might have been three minutes until I had arrived. I, however... had no such thing.
I proceeded to waste literally 45 minutes lost in the back streets of XXXXXXXXXX with my head out the window attempting to see road in rain you could DROWN in if you weren't careful. About twenty minutes into the forty five, I had to park the car in an empty street. (It is possible the street wasn't empty, and that everyone had been washed down the waste water pipe.) Not to catch my bearings but to watch in horror as six deer literally began to CIRCLE MY CAR. CIRCLING. LIKE SHARKS. Drenched, I shrunk into my seat another ten minutes hoping the foul beasts would move along and mercifully grant me life. Fortunately, they deemed me unworthy of death and moved along, granting me another 15 minutes to find the actual building I was supposed to be volunteering in. Arriving in the driveway, I contemplated ritual suicide for disgracing my family by going in an estimated three-minute circle around the same building for three-quarters of an hour.
Literally wet behind both ears, I was eager to get to work. Entering the building, I was so excited to see another human face. It was then that I met XXXX, aka "The subject of the blog entree." Needless to say, I was literally in shock from the trip there. He calmed me down and showed me the ropes of volunteering. You know, setting up salt and pepper shakers, hotplates, moving the food downstairs without burning yourself... The ropes. We also had been forced to wash all of the tinfoil in fear of stories of a nun who ruled over the kitchen like an angry god. Neither of us, last time I checked have met said nun, but I've discovered she is indeed a volunteer and not an employee.
What's weird is even the staff fear her.
Who is this woman?
-XXXX
So, I've been accumulating service hours for PSL through volunteer work at a homeless shelter called PROJECT HOPE. It's your typical homeless shelter, though small in size, on the verge of a huge expansion. There's been a lot of talk about the expansion I've overheard, but I don't think I'll waste that just yet. Possibly on a later post? We'll have to see.
At PROJECT HOPE, the typical shift goes from 7-11, with three volunteers, two staff members and the people seeking shelter at the time.
My first trip alone to PROJECT HOPE was borderline deadly. On the freeway, I was caught in a horrific rainstorm, so hard that the windows on my 2013 Kia Soul began to leak on impact. For some reason, my defoggers had quit functioning, (Later had I discovered that unlike my previous car, the vents had to be on for the defogger to function.) and I wound up in XXXXXX, XXXX. That's a good ten minutes in the wrong direction. Fortunately, inexperience had caused me to leave an hour early, as I had no prior knowledge of the fifteen minute tracks it takes to get there. Turning around and depending heavily on a miracle, I traversed blindly and eventually made my way to XXXXXXXXXX, XXXX. Not QUITE there, but close. Very close. With the ability to see, it might have been three minutes until I had arrived. I, however... had no such thing.
I proceeded to waste literally 45 minutes lost in the back streets of XXXXXXXXXX with my head out the window attempting to see road in rain you could DROWN in if you weren't careful. About twenty minutes into the forty five, I had to park the car in an empty street. (It is possible the street wasn't empty, and that everyone had been washed down the waste water pipe.) Not to catch my bearings but to watch in horror as six deer literally began to CIRCLE MY CAR. CIRCLING. LIKE SHARKS. Drenched, I shrunk into my seat another ten minutes hoping the foul beasts would move along and mercifully grant me life. Fortunately, they deemed me unworthy of death and moved along, granting me another 15 minutes to find the actual building I was supposed to be volunteering in. Arriving in the driveway, I contemplated ritual suicide for disgracing my family by going in an estimated three-minute circle around the same building for three-quarters of an hour.
Literally wet behind both ears, I was eager to get to work. Entering the building, I was so excited to see another human face. It was then that I met XXXX, aka "The subject of the blog entree." Needless to say, I was literally in shock from the trip there. He calmed me down and showed me the ropes of volunteering. You know, setting up salt and pepper shakers, hotplates, moving the food downstairs without burning yourself... The ropes. We also had been forced to wash all of the tinfoil in fear of stories of a nun who ruled over the kitchen like an angry god. Neither of us, last time I checked have met said nun, but I've discovered she is indeed a volunteer and not an employee.
What's weird is even the staff fear her.
Who is this woman?
-XXXX
Monday, October 7, 2013
Contract Of Bloggitude / "The Delerious Biznasty."
Let it be known from this moment forward that Student XXXXXXXX "XXXX" XXXXX is hereby required by XXXXX SERVICE LEARNING to harass the poor, misguided citizens of The Internet with his daily misgivings, opinions and general movement patterns in a last-ditch effort to prevent his/her grade from slamming face first into an ice berg of failure. These findings, or "Bloggings", will also prevent his/her grade from falling in "love" with a stranger and letting them paint it naked, and subsequently being directed by James Cameron. This contract is binding as an ankle chain and as serious as the whole "Blood-brothers thing that Tom Sayer did with Huck Finn when they were sneaking around in that graveyard." It also runs a much lesser risk of the development of AIDS for both parties involved. Love, peace and chicken grease, water cantaloupe, yada yada, with liberty and justice for all.
-XXXX XXXXX -XXXXX Service Learning
Quote of the day
"XXXX, That is a hot, nasty mess of glue and you should be ashamed." - Wood shop Teacher on my lathe project.
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