That almost sounds like the title of a rape.
But in this case, it really wasn’t. And this is how I worry how things will go if I get caught in that situation.
I volunteered for the special fundraiser dinner today at the festival. Mostly because I was hesitant in giving money (so expensive!), but was willing to give time. Although I had thought that I only had volunteered for a small section of the dinner, specifically the setup and registration. That’s easily done—I know how to set things up and get people registered. And the reward of free food!
And so it started. Taiche said that I had a pass to the dinner, but I insisting on volunteering. Because I had committed to it. And I knew that there was a limited set of volunteers. For me to cancel at the last second felt very unlike me, very flakey.
🙁
then I had a teary breakdown when I was told to deliver food. Partly because I didn’t want to do this anymore. Partly because the numbering system didn’t make sense to me. Or did it? Or because I didn’t want to figure it out. But whatever the case, it felt overwhelming. And there was a snappy blond woman who seemed to come out of a kitchen and it was unclear. And suddenly it felt like I watching a TV show where I would be yelled at to deliver stuff to the right table at the right time. What would I get out of it beyond the pleasure of doing goodwill at the dinner?
It felt horrible and I froze. I was frightened by the plates streaming out. I felt scared of the people at the table. Not in the way that they would judge me, but because my own standards demanded that I do it right. Demanded that I set the food down.
It felt embarassing to be led away through the kitchen, suddenly with tears dripping down my face, hyperventilating (or was it faked—or just a show)…