Stick 'em Up, Mom!

I was mugged the other day, in broad daylight, surrounded by good Lamorinda citizens, in the middle of a public school gymnasium.  The robbers were cleverly disguised in cheerful sun dresses, delicate sandals and French manicures.  They had impeccable manners. I didn't feel the gun in my back until it was too late.  I handed over my wallet, terrified I would be… perceived as an ungrateful, unsupportive, stingy parent.

School registration.  I had prepared myself and my budget months before my oldest child's entry into high school, knowing that the checks were on a growth spurt in line with that of my five-meal-per-day ninth grader.  I carefully and frugally pre-registered online.  The day came to turn in the online forms and physically pass through the lines to "confirm" our registration. I vowed that I would not add any $100 football chairs, $75 spirit vests or contributions that I had not deemed necessary.

I maintained my resolution through the bewildering, twisted path of tables and hawking volunteers, smiling and politely declining added-value opportunities.  The sainted coaches advised me that, if I could not afford $260 per sport contribution, I should not withhold my child from participating. (We're playing, so we're paying.)

Then, I stepped up to the Parents Club table. The gang leader on-duty, through her sweet mask, drilled her curly lashed eyes into my frightened ones and declared: "We contribute $360 per child to the school every year.  So, if you want to pay YOUR FAIR SHARE…"  The expectation hung in the air and I crumbled like a bake sale peanut butter cookie.  I quickly wrote a much bigger check than I could afford and was rewarded with a shiny blue copy of the coveted, more valuable than your car, Student Directory.  I cowered and slunk away, too intimidated to ask for a second copy for my ex-husband's use.

Not complaining about our Lamorinda public schools you understand. God knows I'm grateful for the advantages we have.  Our wonderful, dedicated parents clubs, booster clubs and arts and science organizations raise enough money to keep our kids from losing important, now privileged, programs. Thank the Matador, Don and Cougar Heavens for them. It's the reason I live here; so my kids can have the best education possible, the safest place to live, so they can be near their grandparents.  I contribute to the schools and their supporting volunteer organizations in every way that a budget-stretched, fulltime working parent can. I take vacation time to volunteer. I help thank teachers with gift certificates. I contribute money readily, albeit modestly, in whatever denomination I can muster at that time. Mortgage, groceries, utilities, transportation, life insurance and clothing come first. We have more than most people in the world dream of, but still, there is not much left after expenses (usually nothing). 

Walking away from the mugging, I found myself royally ticked off. Guilt, fear and the oh-so-skilled Parents Club had rattled me into trashing my budget.  "Ridiculous," I muttered to myself "I am a business person.  I SELL FOR A LIVING!"  In my business, sales pitches are much different, and I wish I'd remembered that during the hold-up. We upsell, but never at the expense of my clients' bottom line budget. We find ways to give them more than they asked for and go the extra mile in service and care.  We wish clients well and see-you-next-time when they choose a competitor's service. It pays off. Clients return, spend more when they have more money, and prospects come back remembering how well they were treated the last time they looked at us. 

But I allowed myself to be strong-armed, no doubt about it.  Without question, I cratered, exhibiting none of my been-in-business for twenty years savvy or confidence. But after the first week of school, when my son came home sporting Don's royal blue bruises on his freshman football arms, beaming with pride and breaking his teen silence to tell me all about Digital Design class, Spanish class, and most importantly, the wide variety of food available for purchase in high school, my resentment lessened.  I made a new plan for sticking to my budget next year and, gulp, the year after, when I will have TWO kids in high school.

A word to the much appreciated, fundraising Super Hero volunteers: kill me with a little kindness next year.  Try not to hold a knife to my throat.  I will reward you with royal blue loyalty and the biggest check I can afford, I promise.