Moral of the story? No good deed goes unpunished.

I did it. I volunteered and was subsequently elected to run a law school event (hereby coined "LSE"). Said event was to raise money for a good cause, something I constantly thought about as I was organizing said LSE.

Now, for those of you who are not yet familiar with my style, I'm an A personality. I like to meet people. I like to talk to people. I like to be in charge. I also don't mind helping out or delegating, provided things are run in a cohesive manner that doesn't result in my wanting to rip someone's my hair out. For the most part, if something isn't being done properly (or at all), I'd rather just do it myself. It's my nature, and while annoying, it's highly effective (because let's face it--law students aren't exactly the most dependable of people). That being said, if someone is doing their job, then I'm of the mindset to HAVE AT IT.

So....this LSE is technically the pet project of one of the organizations on campus and consists of having to rely upon a shitton of people actually showing up at this event to volunteer. That's strike one, in my opinion. Depending on a group of lawyers and law students to be somewhere to dedicate their time to an altruistic task? UNHEARD OF.

Strike two was the fact that I was working with someone I believe to be Cray-Cray to the Maximus (and by maximus, I mean in my gluteous maximus). My opinion? This crazy coot is out to get me. Fucking great. (And I'm not imagining this shit--we go way back.) Worst part? She acts like she doesn't hate my guts.

So I bust my ass for three weeks, all the while having to deal with backbiting and assholery and general indignities that many would argue are grounds for justifiable homicide. And I take it, because BY GOD, I AM GOING TO DO GOOD FOR CHARITY. I get liquor (since we know that's the main draw). I organize everything. I decorate. I bedazzle.

In short, I rock this goddamn event with every fucking fiber of my fabulous glitter-emoting body.

It was a success, although the event didn't raise nearly as much money as I would have liked (let's just say this--with the hours I put in, I'd have liked a feast thrown in my honor, with a roast beast).

So, where is strike three, you are wondering? Well, friends, that came after the event. When CrayCray scheduled a meeting to discuss the event. The event SHE DIDN'T EVEN FUCKING ATTEND. In all actuality, it was a "Let's Shit on Dr. Juris" meeting. And SHIT THEY DID. Comments like "undermining authority" (when I was in charge, mind you) and "poor time management" (when everything was accomplished and rocked out with its proverbial....well, you know what I mean) were thrown around with great relish. At the end of said meeting, I was told I would have to hand over all my notes and intellectual property associated with the event for next year's planning.

I am waiting for the perfect moment to crush these audacious demands didn't have the heart to tell them I had deleted it all with a thank you Lerd and good riddance.

No really, my heart is three sizes too small.....and I'm pretty sure it's not going to experience a miraculous growth spurt any time soon.

Probably the best email I had with regard to this event was a professor who was helping out: I'll stick to what they gave me and frequently remind myself that it's for a good cause. To which I replied:

That's what I've been doing for the past two weeks.