My church runs a thrift store called, unimaginatively...Hope Thrift. It is a sprawling place filled with everything from soup to nuts. It is run by a handful of full time employees, and an army of volunteers. As fate would have it, Pam and I ended up in a small group with Renee Norton, the top dog at the place. Naturally, Renee roped us into joining the ranks of volunteers.
My first day of work was the first time in my life I had ever entered a thrift store. I have generally made it a habit to avoid such places. They give off the same, creepy vibe as yard sales, and you guys know how I feel about that miserable franchise! But, Renee was not to be denied, so off I went that first day nearly a year ago. As a first timer, I was shuffled to the back room, which I was told was the nerve center of the entire enterprise. In fact, it was actually the most chaotic part of the experience, the place where a nonstop procession of people would appear at the back door, eager to drop off all of their reject possessions in exchange for an orange receipt for their taxes. Once they did, it was my job to sort through it and determine what was fit to sell and what would get thrown in the giant dumpster out back. To my great surprise, I found that there was something...fun...about it. For one thing, the group of veteran Hope Thrifters I was working with were all great fun. There seemed to be a cheerful camaraderie among them, and their patience with me was appreciated. By the second or third shift, I was promoted to books, which meant...organizing the gargantuan mountain of mostly worthless and unreadable paperbacks, encyclopedias published before I was born, and coffee table books with provocative titles like...The 100 Deadliest Snakes of the Brazilian Rain Forest. (Why in the name of all that is holy would anyone get rid of that?)
But soon, my reputation for having no particular skill set for retail, combined with my tendency towards doing physical chores quickly got me promoted to the coveted position of DMLA...dumb manual labor associate. I now am free to roam around the floor looking for things to lift, clean, straighten up, etc. I still get book duty, and I must say that the selection of books on display has vastly improved since my insistence that we stick to works published in the last half century. Oh...one more thing...the single greatest part of the Hope Thrift gig is dumpster duty. Thats when Renee or Brenda or Jennifer, (one of the incredible women in charge) asks me to roll the reject cart out to the dumpster and throw everything in. I can’t tell you how much fun it is...especially when the dumpster is empty. The sound of breaking glass, the sight of hideous knickknackery busting into a hundred pieces at the bottom of a filthy metal dumpster is quite a thrill!!
My wife, on the other hand, has a much more responsible and respected position at Hope Thrift. She is...a cashier. There are many reasons for this...her cheerful smile, perky demeanor, pretty face and gift with numbers. She also works much more often than I do, especially once her school year if over. I only work the second Saturday afternoon of each month. The team of Pam and Lynn Hewette are quite the pair behind the register. One blond, one brunette, two perky smiles...stacking Benjamins all day long!
So, tomorrow is my day to work. Can’t wait, actually. It’s a wonderful place to serve. Many of the people who come there are in desperate need of things that most of us take for granted. To see them find incredible deals on essential items is a great feeling. To have a chance to share the love of Christ with them is a bonus. If you’re reading this and have never been to Hope Thrift, tomorrow after 1 o’clock would be a great time to visit. I’ll be available to help you load your treasures into your car. If you happen to be a member at Hope and have never volunteered at the store...get off your backside and sign up already, you slug! (This is probably why I never get asked to be a cashier like that silver-tongued Tom Allen)
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