Friday night is our night. Its time for our labor union to do its yearly service project. Didn't know I belonged to a union? I sure do. The American Federation of Miscreant Malcontents (Local #207). Otherwise known as the January Birthday Club.
Lo these many years ago, Fake Cow County officials started giving employees a day off on their birthday. Pretty cool, eh? Only one problem - it didn't apply retroactively to those of us who'd already had a birthday that year. That meant Rose and I missed out. Not being people who would willingly pass up a chance to be loud and obnoxious about something, she and I decided to form a union and submit a formal list of demands as a means of rectifying the injustice.
It turned into a yearly tradition that continued until our boss retired. Every year we submitted a lengthy and verbose letter detailing our dissatisfaction with the lack of activity by management on the previous year's demands. We requested simple things like like recliners for our offices, free massage service, windows, personal secretaries, a sizeable wardrobe budget and an office chef. Stuff like that.
After a while, we decided our union needed some good karma, so we started a yearly community service project. Every year,Rose and I ring bells for the Salavation Army at Wal-Mart the Friday night before pheasant season opens.
Back when this started, we were both single, thinner and a decade younger. The night before pheasant season is when every drunken hunter in the country heads to Wal-Mart to buy shells, socks and assorted camoflauged crap. We were loud and sorta brassy, so we made tons of money from the drunken hunters.
That was then.
Now its a chore. It always seems to be a lot colder on our bell night these days. We used to do this for 4 hours. Now we complain and whine about sore feet and knees after just a couple of hours. We don't even sign up for more than 3 hours these days. And the drunken hunters? They are harder to fleece. But we still have a ton of fun!
This year Rose is sick, so we have to postpone for a week and will miss the hunters altogether. But we'll be there next Friday, doing our civic duty. Even though we still don't have recliners.