I hate fundraising. I've hated it since my parents made me trek around our rural route to sell overpriced candy bars and raffle tickets for my elementary school.
Let's just say that by fifth grade, I knew that sales would never be my vocation.
Just because I've grown up doesn't mean I've escaped. I get calls at home for donations--We only give through our church, thanks. I get the annual arm-twisting from United Way at work. I do the Walk for Life, because my mom's best friend died of breast cancer when I was in high school. I've never seen my mom so devastated.
Right now, my daughter is selling cookie dough for her talented and gifted program. That, at least, is usable, unlike the wrapping paper, candy, candles, entertainment books, you name the latest stupid thing we have to sell.
In January, it will be Girl Scout cookies. Place your orders now.
Right now, I've been roped into the Muscular Dystrophy Assocation (think Jerry's Kids) fundraiser by one of the Greek organizations at work. They blindsided me, and like a fool, I said yes. My mom's boss's daughter was a Jerry's Kid about 20 years ago; she now is a teacher, I believe. She has spina bifida. Hey, at least I have a connection.
If you'd like to donate to a good cause (and what among them isn't these days) and get me out of jail early, follow the link below. If you want to let me rot in jail for an hour, hey, that's fine too.
Get Sherrie Outta MDA Jail