Imagine you need the help of your local food bank to supplement your personal food supply. (Maybe you don’t have to imagine. Maybe this is you, or has been you at some point in your life.) Now imagine yourself so deeply lacking in appreciation for the volunteers who toil each week to make your local food bank possible that you call the county director to complain about volunteers being allowed an equitable share of the sustenance that your food bank provides.
I know what you’re probably thinking (if you’re not that lone misanthropic whinger with one telephone and zero compassion). I cannot fathom that deep a chasm of heartlessness within me. And also, who am I to assume that any of these volunteers are less in need, or any less deserving, of supplementing their larders than I?
Who indeed would fail to consider the hours of organization, heavy lifting, distribution, personal assistance and facility cleaning required to pull off such a thoughtful nonprofit social service on such a consistent basis? Unfortunately, I’ll never know; the volunteers at my small town food bank wouldn’t share for the sake of confidentiality. Hard to believe anyone would want to slap the hand that feeds them. In its darkest hour, hunger makes mice of men.
I was raised in an era when Trump was known largely as a bankrupt loser and a joke. Nobody thought he’d rebound financially, much less have a shot at penning the political motto of 2017, “American Carnage.” Trump’s false finger pointing, along with his call to quasi-rage against “disruptors,” now infects our nation. Why not take a page out of Trump’s book by throwing a toddler-sized fit about how unfair something is to you personally? Cling to that affective fallacy like the obselete security blanket that it is for comfort. Why not? Trump’s modeling it so poorly. Why not you too, smarmy whinger?
Volunteers are disrupting your opportunity to get slightly more food than if they got their food later in line than you? How sad for you. That’s worth an incensed phone call asking for an entire food distribution policy change, isn’t it? One that smarts of resentment toward the people who make any of that food possible for you.
Lucky for me, little whinger, I recoil at trumped up fallacy, so your taste for finger wagging carnage isn’t for me (or any other rational human with a beating heart). I truly appreciate the people who make all that local produce and grocery fare possible. And I don’t see my local food bank volunteers as enemies to my food supply. Without them, whinger baby, you’d start having real problems. So open your eyes and count your blessings! And stop listening to the orange toad masquerading as a sentient being in the White House because he’s no model of diplomacy nor genuine appreciation for those who work in his service (without at some point feigning a ridiculously petty tantrum like you just did).
Why my local food bank thought it fitting to kowtow to cuckoo’s unappreciative bitchery regarding their distribution policy (one that did work quite well for both volunteer and non-volunteer recipients alike) is puzzling. The new policy is an insulting joke to the volunteers (who now feel resented by this clueless confidential misanthrope, and have begun to wonder about the true gratitude level of the rest of us). The new policy also dissuades non-volunteer recipients from becoming volunteers. Who would want to take any shit from whinging misanthropes while volunteering?
The food bank director swiftly approved of this new asinine cater-to-whinger distribution policy change without first consulting their many other recipients or volunteers regarding an alternative, democratic solution to the alleged problem. They’re receiving a lot of phone calls today, for good reason, asking that they reconsider kowtowing to the selfish interests of this single shlub or any more thankless greedy fucks who should really just forage from now on if they can’t possibly bring themselves to be gracious to the hands that feed them!
Thank a volunteer, won’t you? Whatever they’re doing in service of their community is not for glory nor money. Don’t you think they deserve a sandwich just like you? Sure, everyone deserves the staff of life, even futzy little whingers overdue for an awakening.