Lesson of the Day

Today I went to volunteer at the consignment sale, so that I could earn a higher percentage of sales from the items I consigned. It was a four hour shift, from 9-1.
I learned an important lesson today about how to treat volunteers. I never, ever want anyone who volunteers at the nursery ministry at our church (or any other ministry I am ever involved in) to feel the way I felt today. I walked in and got no greeting, no one told me where to sign in, and I had no instruction about what to do. I wandered around, feeling really stupid, and useless, and helpless, and finally went up to another volunteer (who had a nametag and a t-shirt) and asked what I should do. She sort of looked at me like, what are you asking me for? I was just about to leave (since they clearly did not seem to need my help) when a nice volunteer told me to go ask for a nametag and to get a shirt. But since the ladies running the sale had not offered me a shirt, I felt really uncomfortable taking one, so I just declined. So I got my nametag, and still no instruction. I wanted to help, but I had no idea what to do. It was just a bad feeling and I would definitely not want to volunteer there again. The nice volunteer gave me some pointers on what to do to fill up the time, and as it got busier, I felt just slightly more useful. I don't think anyone intended to make me feel so lost and unwelcome. They just knew what to do and where everything was and it seemed obvious to them. I think it was a good lesson for me to learn about how it is important to make volunteers feel welcome, and useful, and a part of the team, and also how I need to look at things through the eyes of a stranger. Just because I have spent lots of time in the nursery, I should not take for granted that anyone else will know where anything is or what to do. I really don't want anyone to feel the way I felt today.
The most help I was all day was that I plunged a clogged toilet filled to the brim with poopy-water. I was the only one there that had a strong enough stomach not to vomit while doing it, so the task fell to me. I felt sort of brave, and man-like, like Dave must feel when he kills spiders for me. I know that he hates the spiders and is just as scared as me, but since he is supposed to be less afraid (and therefore more manly: sometimes sexism really comes in handy) he goes ahead and does it anyways. I sort of felt sick when I was plunging the toilet, but also a little smug that I was the one doing it. Whatever, I'm so wierd.