One of my biggest pet peeves is when people don’t help, but lob criticisms from the sidelines. I volunteer for my fraternity’s alumni board. It’s an unpaid position, there is virtually no benefit other than massaging a loyalty gene, and the fine college I graduated from has kicked out or put on probation every club but ours, so that’s probably coming. Yet, since 2005, I have had two guys call me or email me saying they “heard” things weren’t going well at the school and I needed to step down (neither offered to join or volunteer, by the way). One, a guy who was in our fraternity for less than a year, then transferred schools, “heard” I stole thousands of dollars from the fraternity and blew it boozing. This guy sent an email accussing me of this and threw in – “I consider myself a good alumni, since I stay in touch with one or two guys I went to school with.” Wow, you really stepped it up, exalted brother. You know what, “brother”? I would consider myself a good human if I pissed on you while you were on fire, but I wouldn’t waste the piss. After all, I stole thousands of fake dollars when I was making it rain in college, what with my Beast Ice 12-packs and my in your face rich boy cigarette choice of “Slim Price Lights.” Go die.
Recently, I have been organizing our 15 year high school reunion. I made the announcement and a classmate posted something along the lines of, “It’s about time we had one, good Lord!” Hmm, that was a not very subtle dig. Then when I created the event online, Skippy posted “Maybe” for attending. “Maybe” I won’t spit on your food if you make it, but I probably will. Another fun one is the one who keeps messaging me, like “Where is this place?” Well, it’s 1. On the event invitation, 2. You’ve lived in the town your whole life, you may want to drive around a bit and 3. If you have Facebook, that means you have Google! Look it up!
This reinforces a lesson I should have learned years ago – Never volunteer for anything. Ever. I could imagine the first person who showed everyone how to use fire had rocks thrown at him by the other Cro-Magnons as they grunted and defecated on the ground they lived on. Thus, my new strategy. “Your free volunteer work isn’t up to my standards.” You’re right, Neanderthal. Guess what, in my last act as director, I name you in charge! Oh, you don’t want to be in charge? Then speak another word and I’ll hold you down and fart in your mouth. Nothing? Excellent! Good day to all!