Go to Part I
Go to Part V
Before it came time to pass out the collected items at the SA distribution center I needed to find out where, exactly, it was. I called and got an address which, according to the GPS, did not exist. I called again to make sure I had the “right” address and was told the same thing again.
When I told the person on the other end of the phone that I was in the parking lot of an auto parts store and that I was staring at an empty alleyway where the address should be she said “Well, that’s the address I have.” After pushing the issue a little more I was given a cell phone number for one of the volunteers that happened to be in the distribution center at the time and he was able to give me directions to the correct location - several blocks away. I was told to park around back.
This year’s distribution center was an unused ex-store of some kind roughly the size of a large gymnasium. The crowd shuffling impatiently outside of its blank, bleak facade was semi-organized and much, much larger than I expected for noon on a workday. I am not sure why I was surprised at the number of people there - I just was. Unlike me, lots of folks clearly had no trouble finding the place. I pulled around back, parked, and went in for my four-hour shift.
Here is a rough sketch showing how the place was arranged.
I walked in, looked around, and asked someone what I should do. I was told that the Angel Tree area had all the people it needed but the Toys for Tots distribution needed support. I said OK and was pointed to the area of the diagram where you see the selection tables. My job was to run between the massive piles of donated toys in the center area and the various selection tables and keep them stocked with age- and gender-appropriate toys as they were depleted by escorted customers.
A word on that word. The recipients were provided with shopping carts and were escorted around the inside perimeter of the building where they could pick out two toys per child from the tables (books and games were in a different area that I never saw). Calling them “customers” instead of “applicants” made it feel to the needy like a shopping experience, the SA folks said, and it was important to make them feel dignified... at least to their faces (more on that in a bit).
Most of the time I was the only person stocking the tables in that entire aisle. Sometimes another volunteer would briefly appear in the aisle holding a snack or sipping on a soda, presumably from a break area that I heard mentioned but never actually saw. Just as quickly as they arrived they would disappear to parts semi-unknown.
Many (not all) of the volunteers that I did see were clustered in the areas indicated above chatting or playing with the toys (throwing a football or Frisbee around, say) dispersing only when one of the higher-ups did a walkthrough. A couple (a guy and a girl) were openly and loudly talking about how disgusted they were with the customers - “I bet most of these people drive a better car than I do”, “Why do they have cell phones if they are so damn needy?” , “You just know most of these people are drunk or high” - a few feet away from the 6-mil tarps. When I mentioned that the people coming down the aisles there could plainly hear everything they were saying, the girl just shrugged and they both walked off.
A fight - more of a shoving match, really - took place out front while I was there but I did not witness it personally. I found out about it from one of the volunteers who was absolutely bursting with delight when she reported “There’s a riot going on out front!” When I later asked the stoic Marine in charge of the Toys for Tots operation there what had happened, he barely glanced up from his cell phone and said “Nothing. Just some people pushing. It’s been taken care of.” Fair enough.
I guess hours and hours of waiting around for your turn to select Christmas presents pushes some folks’ buttons. And, yes, a few of them were noticeably “drunk or high”, just as the volunteer complained, so that didn’t help matters. As I was running back and forth I overheard one gentleman who was there to pick up something for a relative angrily turn to his escort and say “I waited five damn hours so I could get just two toys?!?” He was mollified slightly when he was informed that everyone is also allowed to get a couple of books and a game.
Just as with the interview process I described in Part II of this post most of the folks coming through were just going through the motions. A few were noticeably embarrassed and uncomfortable and a few were arrogant and demanding. One thing they all had in common, though, is that they all went for the items that had the highest perceived value when they were selecting items from the tables.
Anyone would do this, really. Think about it: are you going to spend “five damn hours” waiting in line to pick up a small pack of Hot Wheels cars and a Barbie as your two allotted toys or are you going to get a humongous RC car/truck/tank and a Razor scooter instead? Exactly.
For what it’s worth I saw no bicycles, computers, MP3 players, or any other high-end items during my time there. Also, I don’t know what happens to the thousands and thousands of toys and games that do not get picked through this handout process - I assume there are other ways that these items are distributed throughout the year or else it would quickly become a storage nightmare.
When four o’clock rolled around I stopped and stretched and told someone in charge I was leaving. They thanked me then wrote my name on a list for some reason. That was that.
On the drive home I mulled over everything I had seen from the initial interviews forward. After witnessing start to finish the huge number of glaring and easily addressable problems that permeated this process and, in essence, defined it, I began compiling a list of ways to fix... well, everything. By the time I rolled into my driveway I knew I had the answer.
Do nothing. The system is not broken. In fact, it’s perfect.
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