Bidding Wars

Let me tell you this right now.  Leave your friendships at the door when you go to the elementary school silent auction.  It’s intense around here.  These women are drunk, and they’re not going down.

I had a glass of wine.  It was delicious, and as I write to you,  it’s swirling around in my mind.  So I’ll do my best.

The “Teacher Experiences” are the hottest commodity.  Miniature golf with your student on Friday.  Pizza with your student next Tuesday.  A hike in the Bluffs.  An afternoon at Tattered Cover.  Mothers stake their claim, and the closer we get to the end of the bidding, they hover.  Claws out.  Piercing eyes.  I’m telling you: it’s fierce.

I gave up.  I fought the hard fight.  But when two women cursed at me, I decided maybe this wasn’t my game.  I’m not competitive on a good day.

So I sent my dad in on my behalf.

They were scrambling to gather the bidding sheets.  There were seconds left.  He shouted above the din, “Tricia!  What’s your bidding number?!”

Well, Dad, that’s why they gave me a bidding number: so I could remain anonymous. Not a snowball’s chance I’m going to shout my number out loud and let these women know exactly who is their competition.  My face is at stake.  Literally.

So I used Sign Language instead.

I just heard one woman shouting into her cell phone, “They’re shutting down tables!  Get in here now!!”

They’re calculating the totals right now.  I think I might have bought tickets to Disney Land.  And maybe a new bag. Or two.

But I’ll tell you what, I didn’t get anywhere close to the parking spot for the year, or even for a quarter of the year.

As it turns out, my mom won front row tickets to Kindergarten Graduation in a month – and left a couple of women scowling in her wake as she walked away with her grandmother head held high.  Incidentally, she paid more for the kindergarten graduation than she did for tickets to a theatre production in downtown Denver.

This just in: I didn’t get the Disneyland tickets.  That’s a relief, actually.  I did get two bags and a bike tune-up.

And I think I’ll leave with my dignity.

 

***

 

A hearty thank you to the moms out there who planned this memorable event and may be reading this.  You ladies handled some nearly violent scenes.

 

And a standing ovation for those who stepped up to the Totally Awesome 80s Theme.  I did not crimp my hair or wear leg warmers, but so many of you, so bravely, did.

 

I tip my hat.  And I gather my bid sheets.

 

Farewell, crazy people.

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