What do you mean you'll give me money?

All of a sudden everybody at work knows about my trip. They're all asking questions. What am I doing? Where am I going? How long? Why?

They're also making fundraising suggestions. As in intra-office fundraising... As in they might be willing to contribute...

I don't like this fundraising thing. Well, not when it comes to raising money for myself. I would have no trouble raising funds for the trip if I weren't going. Does that make sense?

But I am going. So, all of a sudden, asking for money seems ridiculously selfish. Why do I need their money more than they do? And yet, they might just be offering. Earlier in the week I posted about how hard it was for me to ask for money, and it resulted in at least one person giving me money. This whole thing is really uncomfortable.

I dreampt up a fantastic idea for a fundraiser the other night. No, I mean that literally: it came to me in a dream. A fifty/fifty draw! Tickets would be $2 each (or something). Winning ticket takes half the pot and the rest goes to cover the cost of my trip.

The guys at work suggested the same thing before I even mentioned it. I like the idea, since it isn't quite a flat-out demand for cash. It gives people the opportunity to get something in return.

I don't know. We'll see. I'll keep you posted.

Gimme your money, please

I've been procrastinating. I need to write letters to raise funds for the trip. I didn't think it would be difficult, but it is. What do I say?
________________________________

Dear friends, family and people I barely know:

Please give me money so that I can go to the other side of the world and volunteer to work with people you've never met. In exchange for your generosity, you will earn the right to behave smugly.

A donation of $25 will entitle you to one day of smugness. For only $175 (Canadian), you will earn an entire week of smugness. I will present you with a certificate somewhat akin to a get-out-of-jail-free card. When somebody berates you for acting like a smug jerk, you will proudly show them the card proclaiming your right to behave thusly. Your accuser will then kneel before you and beg forgiveness. Unless, of course, he has a Smugness Entitlement card too. Then you're on your own.

Additionally, you will receive my undying gratitude, covering the same period of time as the Smugness Entitlement card.

Sincerely,
sic
_________________________________

See? Do you see why I don't want to do this? It's no fun. It's humiliating and unpleasant. I'd rather just pay for the whole trip myself. Except I can't, goshdarnit.

Maybe instead of going to India, I'll just go to Indiana for a couple of weeks. Surely there's some poor folks there in need of assistance.

PS: If for some reason this letter actually inspires you to swing a couple bucks my way, go to http://www.freedomizeindia.com and click the 'donate' button. In the 'payment for' box, enter my initials (they're sic, in case you hadn't guessed). Canadian taxpayers will get a tax receipt for all donations above $20. Your Smugness Entitlement card will be mailed out.

Passport drama, part the fourth

I'm back.

The whole process was quicker and more successful than I could have hoped. It was, however, every bit as bound up in red tape as the laws of comedy dictate.

I walked into the passport office to discover 12 people ahead of me in the pre-check queue. The office was hot enough to fry a block of tofu on the floor and as dry as my father's wit. Boy, I sure was glad I brought that can of ginger ale with me. I reached into my bag and pulled it out. I was about to crack it open when a voice screamed 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!' The security guard was shaking his pencil at me in disapproval. 'No drinks in the passport office'.

When I got to the pre-check desk, the woman looked over my form and assigned me a number. I made a bee-line for the corridor outside so I could drink my ginger ale. Of course, it occurred to me that bringing a can instead of a bottle was pretty stupid. If I opened it, I'd have to finish the whole thing before going back into the office to wait my turn.

Eventually my number flashed onto the screen and I approached the passport-issuing desk. The woman glanced at the photocopy of my driver's licence and advised me that I had done it wrong. I had photocopied only one side of the licence. But the instructions that came with the application form didn't say anything about copying both sides. She laughed at my foolishness and informed me that there was information on both sides, so any idiot would know to copy both sides. But the only information on the back is the expiry date. She shook her head, clearly amused at my astonishing ignorance. The form, she patiently said, required the date of issue of the driver's licence, so how [please, for the love of pete, tell us how] could I fail to understand that they would want to see the photocopy of the date of expiry as well? It's just so obvious!

That was the last time she looked at my driver's licence. She didn't actually need it for anything. I had already put the licence number on the form when I had filled it out. That was all she needed. When the process was complete, she very helpfully shredded the copy I had made. You know, to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands...

I drank my ginger ale in peace as I walked back to the office.

Passport drama, part the third

Wish me luck; I'm going in!

If you don't hear back from me within the next 72 hours, please contact the Canadian goverment, the Associated Press, my parents and Thermoman. Notify them that I am being held captive at the Passport Canada office on Victoria Street in Toronto. It is entirely possible that I will:

• be trampled to death by the masses;
• suffocate to death in the fight for the limited quantities of oxygen available in the waiting area; or
• die of sheer boredom.

Of course, it's also possible that I will be flogged to death for failing to wait until the sun is in the correct point in the sky on the second Tuesday of the week when the Oilers return to their former glory in a month beginning with the letter 'ی' before signing all my application forms in pentuplicate.

Crap. I knew I forgot something.

I'll see you on the other side.

Um, okay...

I spoke to my boss. I ran into him in the kitchen and so I took the opportunity to ask him if he had a few minutes this afternoon to talk. He asked me to give him a brief synopsis. 'Summer plans', I said. He asked me to elaborate slightly. 'I need to take three weeks of vacation all at once in order to go to Calcutta to work in Mother Theresa's hospices', I responded.

His response was predictable. He laughed, shook his head and said 'ooooooookay'.

A few minutes later he called me into his office. He asked for some details of what and when and that sort of thing. He said it would be fine if (and only if) New Chick could work the day shift for the time I'm gone.

Somehow I walked away from his office with permission to go, his respect and a new weekly reposibility. And yet I still spend the vast majority of my time writing sarcastic drivel.

[shakes head and goes downstairs for coffee]

Yikes!

I have to talk to my boss this afternoon. While I am entitled to three weeks of vacation per year, taking them all at once is an unwritten no-no. In fact, it might even be a written no-no. I don't know where it'd be written. My employment offer letter, maybe? I still have it somewhere. I think...

Whatever.

I need to ask him for permission to do this. He could conceivably deny me such permission. He could also try to pressure me to cut my vacation time off and come straight back to work after leaving Calcutta.

I should maybe see what hear what he actually has to say before freaking out about what he might say, eh?

Rough plan

I know. It's been a while.

It has taken me this long to figure out what I'm doing. I'm still not sure, but a plan is in the works. I don't think I can do the full trip. It's four weeks. Plus I know me and I know I'm going to need some time on my own afterwards. I have to go off for a bit and do my own thing.

If I go to India for one and a half weeks, and then go off on my own for another week and a half, I'll use up all my vacation time for the year in one go. At least I won't have to take any unpaid leave, though. I'm thinking I'll leave Toronto with the rest of the team on the 11th of May. I'll stay in Calcutta until the 21st or 22nd.

If this can be done within the context of the planned trip, that's great. If not, then I'll see what I can do about going on my own.

Once I leave Calcutta, I'll head to London for a few days of hanging out with my super-cool former roommate. Then a few days in Edinburgh bumming around on my own. Then this.

Then back home to Toronto, my dogs, my house, my job, my life...

Passport drama, part the second

Hey, here's a spiffy idea for you. Why don't make me look as bad as you possibly can. Then you can charge me $20 for the privilege.

Gee, thanks.

Passport drama, part the first

You're no longer allowed to smile in passport photos. Apparently, only terrorists smile. If you see people smiling as they walk around the office, you should shoot them. Clearly, they're up to no good.