It’s been a while since I wrote about my heroic life as a foodbank volunteer and how I am, virtually singlehandedly, feeding the world and letting people know it’s Christmas time again. Or something. Anyway, yesterday I did a double shift and while the adrenaline rush pretty well wore me out – more about that in a sec – I felt more optimistic at the end of the day than I did at the beginning.
This week, the Melchester food bank is doing its annual collection for Christmas. Donations are down at food banks and pantries in many places and we are no exception, so it was with a tiny bit of trepidation I turned up to do my stint.
The idea is that we stand at the front of the store when people come in, give them a card containing details of the things we need and with any luck they add a few bits and pieces to their basket or trolley. Then, once they have paid, they drop off the donations which we load up and take to the warehouse. I was with three other volunteers, one a colleague and friend at the food bank and two people I didn’t know from elsewhere in our organisation. (One of them is a retired man who served in the armed forces for 41 years, including stints in Iraq, Afghanistan and Bosnia, so a proper hero in more than one way.)
The first time I was involved in the Christmas collection, I admit to having been disappointed when people ducked their heads and ignored us or just said no thanks in a variety of ways. I made a schoolboy error, assuming that everyone was in the same boat and could easily afford to make donation, no matter how small. But not everyone is in the same boat.
Some donate to other charities, some can only just afford their own shopping, never mind give stuff away and anyway, if they don’t want to give, what business is it of mine? My partner and I commit a substantial sum of money to food banks and I give time, so I am more sparing as to what I donate to other charities. In the end, it’s a private matter. I have long accepted and understood that and I am always polite to those who do not donate. Put simply, you know nothing about people’s lives and it’s right to leave it there.
After our morning session was done, the adrenaline was pumping. I didn’t notice as I was engaging with shoppers, but once I stopped, it was all I could do to slow down. But having collected a shed load of goods for the citizens of Melchester, we had a coffee and a bite to eat. Before returning to the food bank for our weekly afternoon session. We were very busy again.
Some of the faces I recognised and some of the faces recognised me. I try not to think whether anyone is trying to pull the wool over our eyes and anyway, I have a decent bullshit detector which helps me work out who is kosher and who isn’t. We rarely see the latter. But what if someone was taking us for a ride? How would I think about that?
In truth, I’d feel sad. We are the end of the line for many people. And if someone tried to take advantage of us, which could involve getting a few tins of food and toiletries, how desperate would that be? How much lower could you get? Not, I would suggest, much. So my default position is always that the person I am seeing is in desperate need and my job is to help alleviate that need. The thing I found most awkward yesterday was getting praise.
I don’t do praise very well, never have, but maybe that’s because, historically, I haven’t done much to earn it. But people did come up to me yesterday, thanking me for what I was doing, both in the supermarket and people who came to our food bank. I mumble some incoherent gibberish in reply, which is supposed to mean, “We all do our bit and this is mine.” I suppose I should add something like, “Well, I’m here because I want to be here. I enjoy my work. I’m putting a bit back into society because I can.” But there isn’t time and anyway, I’m rubbish at thinking on my feet. But there was one thing that stood above all else: kindness.
Shoppers and staff were kind to us in the supermarket. For one brief moment in time, it felt that we really were in it altogether. And in the afternoon, it felt the same. It would be stretching things a bit to say that people enjoy visiting our food bank but we work very hard to ensure it’s the best experience we can make it. For a short while, they are our friends. If people leave smiling and seeking us out to say goodbye, I’d like to think we’ve done a good job.
I was very tired yesterday afternoon, emotionally spent. I’m not used to doing a full day’s work these days so maybe that’s part of it. But we do work hard to sympathise and if possible empathise with our friends who are, at least for a moment in time, at the end of the line.
I saw the best of Britain yesterday in so many ways. Whether things are about to get better, or just less worse, I don’t know, but just for once kindness saved the day. And if we can all be a little more kind, what a wonderful world this could be.
