When I signed up for the Master Gardener program, I had no idea it required volunteering in the community. I wasn't against such a thing, but perhaps I should have delved a bit deeper.
Today is the "Bi-States Agri-Fair" put on by Master Gardener program of Bowie (TX) and Miller (AR) Counties. It is a big deal among the growing set. Some professor of plants from Texas A&M is the guest speaker. An attendee can learn about fertilizer use, pest management, seed development, cattle and a host of other exciting topics. There is a trade show, with free logoed pens, pads of papers and whatnot will be given out to all Fairgoers. If that isn't enticing enough, a free hamburger lunch (It's Texas/Arkansas folks, don't expect vegan) will be provided.
And, that's where I come in. Last year there were 600 people who attended this day-long shindig. Last week there were begs and pleas for volunteers to come out and help cut up the tomatoes, onions and lettuce for lunch. And please! Bring your own knife. Being a foodie, that sounded easy enough. Even though it was pouring torrential rain, and the same forecast is expected for today I signed up to arrive at 11 a.m. with my sharpened knife and enthusiasm at my first experience volunteering with this group.
That changed at 10:45. I was 10 minutes away from the fairground, driving through a horrible rain storm when my phone rang. As I answered (on bluetooth), my all-wheel drive car opted to hydroplane on New Boston Road in several feet of water. The call was from my new "mentor," from the Master Gardener program, making sure I was going to arrive in 15 minutes. And I have to tell you, that set me off. I don't like being micromanaged (or running floating off the road). It took the rest of the drive for me to get my attitude in check, reminding myself: 1) I didn't have to answer the phone, 2) it was (allegedly) a friendly phone call and the timing was bad, and 3) perhaps my new mentor didn't realize she came across as demanding and scolding.
When I arrived, my mentor was nowhere around. I sought her out to introduce myself in person. She didn't need anything, other than to make sure I was actually coming. Nor did she feel the need to socialize. Though we'd never met and she has no authority, she just wanted to make sure I was going to keep my word. So, I'm still not sure what that was about.
About 15 of us showed up to help with lunch prep. We were there, milling around, specifically waiting to cut tomatoes, onions and lettuce. Coincidentally enough, the organizer of this event didn't need all of us and had neglected to mention this to the person coordinating the volunteers. They had enough onions already. They only had a handful of tomatoes and, like me, they felt that cutting lettuce was a bad idea. It should always be ripped.
While everyone was looking for a role in this crazy, I grabbed my knife and a motioned to a few other folks I recognized from my class last week and we went to work cutting tomatoes. Meanwhile, some woman from Miller County, who has been a Master Gardener since 1924, was utterly unhappy with my knife cutting skills. Mind you, she wasn't in charge, wasn't even involved in the food prep and we had never met before today. She was just one of "those" types.
This lady took the time to walk across the kitchen, grab MY wrist and tell me that I was cutting tomatoes wrong (nobody else, mind you). According to her, I needed to use one of the mandolins that were floating around. Nobody else was using a mandolin. But she didn't care about anyone else.
When she didn't get anywhere with the mandolin, she turned to how I was holding my knife (which was correct). Then I was squeezing the tomatoes too hard. And when neither of those got traction, she pointed out I was doing this and that wrong. One of the other women in the cutting tomato group mouthed to me, "Do you know her?" I shook my head. I know plenty of crazy old people. Now I know another one.
When it came time to handle the lettuce, she once again came over, and began critiquing my lettuce ripping skills, even going to far as to take a piece I'd ripped off the core, put it back on my cutting board and tell me it was "too big." I just smiled and threw the piece away. "Why'd you to that?" she demanded. "You aren't wearing gloves," I pointed out. "It can't be served." Then, I went back to work.
The final time she came over to chastise me over something weird I kind of smiled and threw out the, "Bless your heart," I had chambered. I was standing in the State of Arkansas. I knew exactly what I was saying. The women who were working with me knew too and the kitchen went silent. But at least the drill sergeant left.*
I'm told that today is a great opportunity to volunteer. I can get lots of hours towards my Master Gardener certification. But, you know what? I'm gonna pass and go hang out with the Lunch Bunch.
*Marty pointed out this sounded uglier than it was. It went like this, (with a smile), "I'm new here and doing the best I can. Bless your heart. I guess I'm just not helping out the right way." The message was received and I didn't have to wield my knife.
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