Penny is coming home for the weekend. I am scheduled to speak for a Spanish Pathfinder Camporee in some place called Ursery Park—who knows. Very busy week culminated by a School Board meeting in Prescott last night. I was bushed. I woke up late and have been scrambling all day.
I mentioned in my last blog that humor is everywhere, and not always planned or particularly pleasant, but it is humorous nonetheless. I must pre-empt my Swamp Smoothie vignette to talk briefly about an incident that took place at Thursday’s Executive Committee Meeting, prior to my trip to Prescott.
It was supposed to be an uneventful meeting. I was one of very few reporting members to this distinguished cross-section of male and female educators, philanthropists, lay people and clergy who gather six times a year to discuss the business of the church organization in the State of Arizona. It is the highest administrative committee in the organization.
Other than my report and a couple of significant votes related to personnel and policy, the two points of interest to me dealt with a proposal to liquidate some funds held in an account designated to assist TAA, who is facing some daunting cash flow scenarios in the coming weeks, and a vote to add the Superintendent of Education as a fourth administrative member of the Executive Committee.
The second vote came early in the agenda and the committee voted unanimously (unofficial biased count by me) to verify my appointment to the Executive Committee. I feel affirmed while, at the same time, feeling a bit weighted down by yet another committee that will require my presence. Maybe I can sway the way they conduct business as well, or maybe there is a reason why these meetings are conducted according to some unwritten agenda code that requires a litany of oral reports and commentary on the reports followed by votes on a myriad of items without much discussion at all. My theory is that by the end of the meeting most members do not want to prolong the process any further by discussion in light of the fact that they have engaged in two hours of reports prior to arriving at the “executive” portion of the meeting. This will remain one of the mysteries of administrative life.
I mentioned I was supposed to present the recommendation by the Education Board to transfer a sizable amount of funds from an endowment to the coffers of TAA to assist them with cash flow. The endowment was established for this purpose specifically. I was confident the vote would be positive, all seemed to be going well—the president and chair of the committee asked me to present the recommendation to the committee. I began to make my presentation standing where I had been seated—in what I refer to as the “detention chairs.” I had begun to make my eloquent and powerful appeal to the committee. It was at this point that humor made an unexpected appearance—at my expense.
The president asked me to come to the head of the table from my place at the side tables reserved for visitors and non-members. I began to make my way to the side of the table where only administrators dare trod. I made some snide remark about “playing with the big boys now,” a reference to the line by the Egyptian magicians in The Prince of Egypt, one of my favorite animated movies. As I arrived and looked at the group congregated it occurred to me that the reference may not have been as apparent to the committee as it might have been to me when I uttered it.
Secondly, I realized there were committee members of the female persuasion seated at the committee table. Wanting to be inclusive I quickly added the now fateful addendum to my previous quote. The words began to burn on my lips even before they had made their exit. “Oh, and the Big Girls, too.” I added. There was an uneasy silence which was soon broken by my attempt to recover as I looked around at the stares by the ladies seated at the table. They seemed unsure as to how to react to my statement. Big? Girls? Ouch! “That did not sound quite right,” I believe I said, hoping the ground would open up. I truly expected the Southwest Airline’s ring tone to preface a voice saying, “Want to get away?”
The president started chortling next to me with too much delight. “I would say not,” he commented between snickers. By now the committee had exploded into uninhibited laughter as I tried in vain to dig out of the proverbial hole of my own making into which I had fallen. No one helped me. Every attempt to recover was met with a “stop trying, Ruben” or “nice try” comment. Resistance was futile.
It took a couple of minutes before the laughter subsided sufficiently for me to find my way back to my place in my impassioned appeal for consideration of the motion. In the end, the committee voted to approve the motion and, soon after, mercifully adjourned the meeting. I doubt, however, that the officers will let me forget my faux pas. Humor is indiscriminate and equally cruel, but laughter is sweet salve to the soul, even for the one who is the victim of the humiliation. I think the Bible says as much, in the Book of Hezekiah. Oh well. I will not likely forget my first day on the Arizona Conference Corporation Executive Committee. On the other hand, I also will never forget my first post-40 visit to the doctor. Ironically, his name was Dr. Blizzard—no kidding! You can’t make up this stuff…unfortunately.
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