The color of money

As you can imagine, in the city of Newport Beach raising money for the local schools takes on a whole new dimension. Where on earth have you ever heard of a public school raising over $250,000 annually in support of additional teachers, equipment and computers? Nearly half of those funds are garnered in one shot, at the quintessential Newport Beach fund raising activity … the annual parent’s party with requisite silent and live auctions.

Last Friday night, our local elementary school had its annual event, “Tropical Nights,” at a nearby Newport Beach Hotel. $42,000 was collected before the party even started in pure cash donations through “underwriting.” $64,000 was laid down in the Silent and Live Actions that night. Keep in mind, this is a public school. This is not “Jerry’s Kids” or “The Cystic Fibrosis Foundation” or “Multiple Sclerosis.” This is simply parents raising money for their child’s elementary school. It’s like selling candy bars, or wrapping paper, or cookie dough. Except with 3 cash bars, a live band, steak entree, and dancing.

I answered a call for 4 parent volunteers to work the auction desk under the direction of the consultant hired to run the auction. I don’t have much time to volunteer for the school outside of my child’s classroom (where the rubber meets the road) so I figured working at this event would be a good way to meet people and to also help out (in a non-committee participating way). I was told to be at the event by 4:45 and ask for the Auction Consultant.

Two of us showed up a 4:45. The other two were nowhere to be seen. Three high school student volunteers were assigned to work with “the moms” (our official title) since our co-workers were no shows. It appeared that the high school had donated about 25 kids to assiste specifically with the auction (dressed snappily in white shirts and black pants). I later learned these kids were working in order to get community service credits. Is it just me or is working a silent auction to benefit the needy children of Newport Beach at a high end hotel really on par with more traditional community service activities such as serving in a soup kitchen in Santa Ana? I was quickly informed that “the moms” would check guests off the list, issue “fish” tags if guests ordered fish, hand out leis to appropriate “status” guests as noted on the guest list and issue auction bid numbers. The students would enter information into the computer and swipe credit cards. The Auction Consultant felt the students would be better suited to the computer work. I was a little insulted. I later learned my student partner was into art, music and theatre which explained her computer skills. I have a computer and finance background which explained my bad handwriting on the bid number signs. Isn’t that the way of life?

After our check-in training was complete, the Auction Consultant went off to train the other 22 student volunteers on the silent auction procedures. I am sure they were taught things I later learned are particularly important like “pick up the auction sheets promptly at auction close or there will be trouble” and “ensure bids are incremented in the amount at the top of the sheet or a drunken parent is liable to get nasty.” At 5:30 the other two parent volunteers showed up for the 4:45 training. I told them where they could find the Auction Consultant. I never saw them again that evening.

At 6PM the five of us (two moms and three kids) were at the registration desk waiting for guests to arrive. At 6:55 we finally had a rush of arrivals. We got a pretty good rhythm going right away. “Hello and welcome to Tropical Nights. Here is your auction book with all the exciting items you can bid on this evening. Your lucky winning bid number is written on the back. We would like to pre-authorize your credit card number to make checking out quicker at the end of the evening.”

I did not anticipate one horribly embarrassing personal problem I would suffer working the registration desk. Our Kid has been going to this school for 2.5 years. We have lived in the same house for 8 years. I have met a lot of people during this time between the neighborhood, volunteering in the classroom, birthday parties and soccer. It would have been nice if I had bothered to remember anybody’s name. I was finally totally screwed by my complete lack of memory and social finesse. People would walk up, say hello, chit chat about our mutual kids and then look at me expectantly. I would finally be forced to say “I’m sorry, what is your last name.” The truth was I didn’t remember their first name either. After a few of these exchanges, my teenage partner figured out how lame I was and started rescuing.

I haven’t been around teenage kids since I was a teenager. I had only vague ideas of what they are like. These kids seemed especially sophisticated to me. They dressed well and were good looking kids. They knew a lot of the adults and interacted very politely (and seemed to know most names). When things were quiet, they reverted to their native tongue (generally ignoring me and the other mom).

“The dads look all that and the moms seem old.”
“Do you think that a lot of the moms have fake boobs?” “Flash!”
“Insert name of female or male singer/actor I have never heard of is insane.”
“Do you still model?”
“Look at this picture on my phone of my biology lab partner. He is hot.”
“I like your insert jewelry, hair, nails, clothing, body part. Very glam.”

Later in the evening, a dad who I thought looked especially young and handsome (well the teenagers brought it up first) came to the registration desk and chatted with his teenage daughter. He was holding a glass of red wine. They exchanged a few pleasant sentences. Nothing appeared unusual to me. He paused. She said “Did you need me to drive you home tonight Dad?” He said “Yes” and walked off. Nice family moment.

I am a big fan of auctions and part of the reason I volunteered was a) to avoid buying anything at the auction as I am on a strict budget left over from a 2005 home remodel gone wild and b) to see how these large school auctions work. I had poured over the auction booklet prior to the evening and knew some really amazing items were up for bid. Some unusual prizes were featured and raised a ton of money that night. A framed Michael Jordan jersey went for $1,200. Lifeguard for a Day went for $750. A Ride in a Newport Beach Patrol Car went for $500. A local mom’s art was featured in the “chance” drawing and raised $1,300. By far, the most popular items were “Dates with the Teachers.” The teachers volunteer to donate their time to take their students somewhere fun like the movies, or on a picnic or to the Balboa Fun Zone. These teacher dates are hotly contended auction items. My husband had strict instructions to win the Duffy Boat Ride with my Kid’s teacher. Fun for the Kid and flattering for the teacher (a two-fer).

During the bidding, my husband and 2 other sets of parents realized they were all just upping the price of the Duffy Boat ride needlessly and since the auction item was for three kids they could simply share the cost. They agreed to bid the boat ride up to $150 and then split it three ways. They actually ended up paying $200 because someone (obviously not from their alliance) jumped in at the last minute and raised it again.

Silent auction tables closed at various times throughout the evening. My job was to data enter the auction item number, the winning bid number and the amount. Simple. Everything was going really well up until about the time that the spindly network of 5 computers crashed. I volunteered to get my husband to help the Auction Consultant fix it but was quickly brushed off (how could I possibly understand serious auction computer problems?). Perhaps my Network Engineer husband would have understood, but by then I was hungry and getting a little bored with my front desk duties.

It was about 8:45 and time for a break. I excused myself politely to go have the dinner that I paid $95 for. Due to my front desk job, I hadn’t seen the Silent Auction and Dining Room. WOW! The decorations were beautiful with flowers everywhere and fake tiki torches lighting up the interior night sky. A band was playing old Jimmy Buffet tunes. People were still buzzing around the remaining open Silent Auction tables. I found my husband and some of his soccer friends at a fairly well situated table in the middle of the room. Things were pretty lively and soccer gossip was flowing freely (it didn’t appear that the cash bar had deterred anyone from enjoying the evening). I wolfed down my steak dinner (something about Fridays and meat…what is it???) and talked a little to my husband and dinner companions. I could only talk to half of the table as the other half was blocked by a three foot wide, four foot tall tropical flower arrangement. By 9:30PM the Live Auction was set to start. This was where the really big ticket items got purchased. Ice skating lessons with a famous Mighty Duck Skater went three times for $2,500 each. A ride in the Good Year Blimp for two people went for $3,000.

At that point duty called and I ran back to the auction desk. All hell was breaking loose. Guests were starting to come and ask to be cashed out, but only one of the five computers was running. All I could do was tear the invoices for the Auction Consultant. Even that wasn’t good enough for her high standards as she implored me to “tear just a half a second faster.” Understandably, she was frantic as the never-ending line wound down the hall of the hotel. Non-winners were demanding to see the original auction sheets to determine who had snaked them out of their daughter’s Roxy Luggage. Deals were being cut on some of the largest items like the private home theatre evening (splitting it amongst several families). Five young girls worked the front counters presenting invoices, taking credit cards and escalating issues. For the most part, the crowd was patient and cheerful and just a little tipsy (not in that order).

Finally, the line died down around 10:30PM. The Auction Consultant excused me officially. “You must want to go dance with your husband.” I really think she preferred ordering the fifteen-year-olds around to the forty-something-year-olds.

“Are you sure? I think I will.” He had left an hour ago to take the babysitter home but I know an exit line when I hear it.