Snack Wreck

I went to the strangest charity party last week. The venue was weird (a bank), the charity was weirdly targeted, the various associated partnerships (a cola, a magazine, a liquor store) were a weird combination. It was as if the organizers had put all the elements (cause, event, venue) into a big barrel and drawn them out, like a game of Clue. Professor Plum in the Conservatory with a knife. Dinner for free musical instruments for kids in a fabulous home. Coffee in a hotel lobby for kids in need. Food drive for community pantry in a school gymnasium. Wine in a bank to raise money for disadvantaged children’s camps.

    Even the guest list was unfathomable. I don’t attend a lot of charitable events, but I do see the same faces at many of them. So it’s probably a good thing that there was a new crowd there.

Except it didn’t look like a crowd that was breaking out the check books. It wasn’t a hail-fellow-well-met crowd. It wasn’t the frosted-hair-and-fake-nails set. It wasn’t the earnest, well-heeled matrons. Instead, there were modestly dressed seniors sporting windbreakers and big inexpensive handbags, rushing the buffet and complaining about the food. And a few youngish people in branded sports gear.

    There was just a token buffet. Snacks, really, plus lots of flowers. It was gone in a flash.

buffet table remainders

And then, just like that, the party was over. I just had to tell someone, so thanks for listening.