We gathered in the parking lot of section D at the mall. Wilson and I were among the first to arrive, wanting to make a good impression and beat Suck-Up Andy to the event. Roz was here when we pulled in, chipper at nine a.m. and encouraging everyone to have a cup of coffee from the little station she had set up in the back of her SUV.
It was Give Back Day, one of her initiatives for employees to get involved and make a difference in the local community. In years past, we picked up litter in a park and painted a fence at a senior center, but no one was really sure what was on tap for today.
We were about two dozen in size now, with a few notable absences.
“If Andy is still on that island on the company tab and getting a pass, I’m not going to be happy,” I said.
Wilson was on his second doughnut, the white powder piled up at the corners of his mouth.
“He’s back,” he said. “He texted last night asking if I could save him a doughnut.”
Roz was circulating, glad-handing and giving out purple t-shirts to everyone. She made her way over and handed us ours and launched into a pep talk.
“I’m expecting big results from you guys today,” she said. “As senior level leaders, I need you to set an example with this project.”
We nodded and threw in an “absolutely” and a “definitely” for good measure.
“What are we doing?” I asked.
“Trying to get rid of, I mean give away all the excess hand sanitizer we purchased,” Roz said, nodding toward a big truck parked nearby.
“We have a truck full of hand sanitizer?” I asked.
“Yup. We ordered it a few months ago when we were putting our back to the office plans together,” she said. “But we realize our calculations may have been off a bit.”
“A bit?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “We figured we needed a gallon of sanitizer per employee, per day. Give or take.”
“Give or take what?” I asked.
“Give or take another gallon,” Roz said. “Turns out we don’t need nearly as much. And not like we can sell it. There’s a glut of it now.”
“So we want to offload it?” I asked.
“We prefer donate,” Roz said.
She left to meet with the troops and Wilson and I slipped into our t-shirts. On the shirt were big block letters with the slogan for the day.
I Care
“How do I look?” he asked.
“Like someone who cares,” I said. “I may wear mine around the house in case any one at home has any doubts.”
Roz had made her way over to the truck and started her little talk. “Everyone, listen up, let’s get started over here.”
The group migrated to the back of the truck and Andy magically appeared at Roz’s side. He was holding a clipboard and beaming, clearly Roz’s right-hand man for the day.
“Okay, Andy,” she said, “let’s open the back of this trailer and show the team what today’s event is all about.”
Andy reached up and unlocked the trailer door, pushed it up and revealed a wall of pallets stacked one on top of another and all with cases of small clear bottles.
“Give Back Day has turned into Give Away Day this year,” Roz said. “This is hand sanitizer, team. Excess hand sanitizer, and we’re donating it. So, come on up and Andy will give you a sheet with schools, community groups and other organizations that we hope will accept our generous gift.”
We got to the truck and Andy handed us a sheet with at least two dozen stops listed.
“And these places know we’re coming?” I asked.
Roz jumped in with an answer.
“No, we’re hoping to surprise them. I’ll think people will be touched by our thoughtfulness,” she said.
Andy meanwhile was offering his unique brand of encouragement.
“Remember, big prizes and surprises for the team that gives away the most sanitizer, so don’t take no for an answer,” he said.
I looked at Wilson, who was nodding and clapping his hands.
“Let’s get to it,” he said. “What a good cause. Plus we can win a prize. What a day.”
I occasionally wondered how the man’s mind worked.
There was the screech of tires and a battered mini-van pulled up. The window went down and Big Mike stuck his head out and yelled.
“What are we doing?”
Wilson explained and a moment later the van was loaded up with cases of sanitizer. I was in the front seat, Wilson in the back surrounded by sanitizer.
First stop was RiverView Senior Center. The three of us loaded up hand trucks and made our way to the front door. We found the woman in charge and explained who we were and what we were doing. Before we could finish our spiel we had drawn a crowd.
“More sanitizer?” someone yelled in passing. “Let us know when you have something to give away that we can actually use.”
“You guys are kind of late to the game,” the woman said. “We’ve already had six groups stop by dumping this stuff. Get it out of here.”
Two stops later and we had only managed to give away three cases of sanitizer. We had at least a hundred more in the back of the van.
“We’re definitely not winning any prizes,” Wilson said, dejectedly.
I scanned the list of locations trying to guess which one would accept our gift.
“How about this preschool?” I asked. “They’re probably still hyper vigilant about germs.”
We arrived, loaded up the hand trucks and headed to the door where a woman greeted us.
“Oh, that’s so nice of you,” she said after patiently hearing our offer. “But no.”
Mike held out a little bottle and tried his best door-to-door salesman routine.
“Here, just try a bit. You’ll fall in love with it,” he said.
The woman recoiled as if being offered a plate of liver.
“No, please leave,” she said.
“Maybe just a case,” Wilson said. “For the kids. They’re little germ magnets you know. Plus it would help me win a prize.”
“Please leave,” the woman repeated.
A half-hour later after being rejected by another senior center, and some place called the Society for A Clean World, Mike pulled the van behind the mall by the dumpsters and put it in park.
“This is desperate,” he said. “We got rejected by the Clean World Society or whatever that place was. I really don’t want to come in last. I want a damn prize this year. I never win at these things.”
He got out and started unloading the sanitizer, stacking it next to a dumpster.
“Ah, Mike,” I said, pointing to a sign. “This is monitored and apparently they don’t allow dumping. Kind of a big risk to take for what, another I Care t-shirt?”
“I need a win,” he said. “Sometimes you got to take a risk.”
A second later the whoop of a siren was heard behind us. In front of us Andy materialized, shaking his head.
“Busted,” he said, smiling.