So, yesterday was awesome, and required a surprisingly large amount of physical labor! I was sweating so hard, it was literally dripping down my face. Ah, giving back! I frakkin' loved it!
Team PWDT (pronounced "pout," as in, "like a surly teenager") kicked some major ass! We ended up with six volunteers, and everyone was a true trouper-slash-workhorse.
So, the way that the S.F. Food Bank works is they have approximately one hundred volunteer slots on any given weekend shift (and perhaps during the week, too; I honestly don't know), and you can sign up as an individual, or as a group (we were a group, the Playground Friends). They have this fancy-dancy online volunteer registration site, and will send you reminders for your calendared items, complete with directions and instructions on things like what to wear, where to park, etc. Then, all you have to do is show up for a brief orientation on the day of, and get to work!
For our experience, the volunteer coordinators broke us up (and by "us," I mean everyone who showed up to volunteer, not just our little cadre) into three teams: one for the re-packaging room (where you take bulk containers of dry goods, such as pasta, and portion them out into smaller containers for distribution); one for produce (a similar concept to the re-packaging process, but with produce); and the boxing room (not to be confused with pugnacious activities, but literally boxing up food stuffs and placing on palettes for distribution via one of -- if I recall correctly -- five different distribution sites throughout the area).
Team Playground Friends was part of the boxing room. The volunteer coordinator got everyone settled into a spot on the assembly line, and then asked us what radio station we wanted to listen to. (After a few seconds of no response, yours truly piped in with "Live 105!" Made me happy! Maybe next time I'll try for KDFC...) Anyway, we assembled boxes, unloaded flats of cans, packed what I believe were half-gallon plastic containers of apple juice (way to sling the heavy stuff, Sandy!), and closed and taped the boxes using this kick-ass taping machine that automatically sealed the boxes of food.
The volunteer coordinator for this room said that the average three-hour shift of volunteers cranks out about a thousand of these boxes. In just two and a half hours (with one thirty minute break thrown in), our room of volunteers managed to produce the expected thousand boxes of food (being distributed next week to seniors living by themselves), plus an additional seventy five boxes for single-parent households. In other words, we were above average. Natch.
Finally, after a job well-done and a lot of "Oh, my GAWD, I can't feel my arms!", the gang decided that we needed some real grub, and Michelle (a.k.a., Miss Squeaky) wisely suggested the Hard Knox Cafe (mere blocks from where we were).
Here's what we ordered: two plates of the fried chicken, one plate of BBQ ribs, sweet corn, cajun potato salad, macaroni and cheese, yams, mashed potatoes, garden salad, a couple of things that Kevin got but I can't remember right now, and extra cornbread muffins (which we slathered in real butter and drizzled with honey -- so good!), plus the usual assortment of yummy beer (read: Spaten, Heineken, Abita), one Arnold Palmer (sweet choice, Jae!), and one Hawaiian Punch (Ms. Squeak, natch).
And, to top it all off and make the day truly serendipitous, we ran into Ken Ellis, who was also gettin' his soul food on after a what was reportedly a studious night of Beer Appreciation.
Good food, hard work, amazing people: not a bad way to spend a Saturday!
Our next official outing will be in February, and after some discussion, we've landed on the topic of elder services. I'll be posting a poll on this blog (after conducting some research) so we can all vote on exactly where we want to volunteer, so keep an eye out. In the meantime, happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Love, love, love!
