Infinite Fundraising Potential
Every day I stepped out to the curb to meet Abbie coming home from preschool. Today, the bus stopped at our driveway as usual. Abbie walked to the front of the bus as usual. Abbie stopped a few steps short of the door in a blatant attention-grabbing attempt to make us drag her the rest of the way out of the bus, also as usual.
The unusual part was Abbie’s backpack was unzipped. She always comes home with it zipped, tightly securing the notes, artwork, and spare clothes inside. Today a large envelope jutted out the open top. The bus handler explained that pictures were in the envelope, and they didn’t want to damage them by cramming them into the backpack.
I didn’t expect pictures. Abbie already had her school picture taken earlier in the year. It immortalized Abbie’s earliest school days, back when her hair covered her eyes, pull-ups covered her lower body, and a giant zit covered her nose. Not much has changed in the past couple months, so I expected these unexpected pictures to look similar, minus the zit.
When I opened the envelope, these pictures were breathtakingly different. The photographer somehow convinced her to sit still. The first picture looked like it had been snapped during the breath between howls of protest. This new picture actually featured a posed Abbie. She looked pensive and pleasant, and not at all like a girl who was about to hunt down and shove her brothers to the ground out of boredom.
I also found the bill inside the envelope. They wanted $40 or their pictures returned. I dimly remember authorizing her to be posed, but I certainly didn’t authorize the development of $40 worth of pictures. This was a clear play on my emotions, to showing me beautiful pictures of my daughter that would be destroyed if I didn’t pay the ransom. It’s like blackmail with part of the proceeds going to a good cause.
I set the photos to the side, ready to shove them back in her backpack in the morning. I didn’t appreciate being manipulated, and they could have their pictures back. We already have pictures from this preschool year anyway. Plus, her shirt was stained in the photo; you’d think they’d keep the kids away from the paints on picture day.
Mommy noticed the pictures on the table, and went from unaware to enamored with the pictures in about 3.9 seconds. She immediately overruled me and wrote a check. I could only shrug and admit that she looked cuter in this new set. I didn’t think it was worth $40 for the new set, but mommy did. No doubt ten years from now, Abbie at least will think it was worth $40 to have a zit-free set of preschool pictures.
The unusual part was Abbie’s backpack was unzipped. She always comes home with it zipped, tightly securing the notes, artwork, and spare clothes inside. Today a large envelope jutted out the open top. The bus handler explained that pictures were in the envelope, and they didn’t want to damage them by cramming them into the backpack.
I didn’t expect pictures. Abbie already had her school picture taken earlier in the year. It immortalized Abbie’s earliest school days, back when her hair covered her eyes, pull-ups covered her lower body, and a giant zit covered her nose. Not much has changed in the past couple months, so I expected these unexpected pictures to look similar, minus the zit.
When I opened the envelope, these pictures were breathtakingly different. The photographer somehow convinced her to sit still. The first picture looked like it had been snapped during the breath between howls of protest. This new picture actually featured a posed Abbie. She looked pensive and pleasant, and not at all like a girl who was about to hunt down and shove her brothers to the ground out of boredom.
I also found the bill inside the envelope. They wanted $40 or their pictures returned. I dimly remember authorizing her to be posed, but I certainly didn’t authorize the development of $40 worth of pictures. This was a clear play on my emotions, to showing me beautiful pictures of my daughter that would be destroyed if I didn’t pay the ransom. It’s like blackmail with part of the proceeds going to a good cause.
I set the photos to the side, ready to shove them back in her backpack in the morning. I didn’t appreciate being manipulated, and they could have their pictures back. We already have pictures from this preschool year anyway. Plus, her shirt was stained in the photo; you’d think they’d keep the kids away from the paints on picture day.
Mommy noticed the pictures on the table, and went from unaware to enamored with the pictures in about 3.9 seconds. She immediately overruled me and wrote a check. I could only shrug and admit that she looked cuter in this new set. I didn’t think it was worth $40 for the new set, but mommy did. No doubt ten years from now, Abbie at least will think it was worth $40 to have a zit-free set of preschool pictures.
posted by Matt at
11:03 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home