A Pint For A Pint

I have a bit of a love hate relationship with the American Red Cross.  I love what they do, but I don’t always love the way they do it.  I’m referring to their various blood drives and my part in them.

Once I started donating years ago, I began getting phone calls, emails, and cards in the regular mail.  Each offered opportunities for me to give, and while I appreciate choices I don’t like getting pestered.  And pestered. And pestered.  Often I’ve already scheduled an appointment when I get a call asking me to, well, schedule an appointment.  When I tell them I’ve already done so, they ask me to wait while they check the computer.  “Oh! There you are! See you soon.” Then I get calls and cards reminding me of my commitment to giving blood.  Weren’t they the ones who forgot I’d already signed up?  Ug.

Today was a new experience.  I had missed the local blood drive while out of state, so I checked to see what was nearby.  I discovered a Culver’s in the next town over was offering a promotion called “a pint for a pint.”  When you give a pint of blood, you get a coupon for a pint of Culver’s custard ice cream.  Sweet!  I signed up.

I had visions of being laid over a table leaking blood as customers ate their burgers and slurped their shakes.  But no, they had a blood donor RV, or whatever it is called, outside of the restaurant.

Let’s just say the bloodmobile was cozy…two intake cubby’s and four beds for blood letting.  In addition, the Red Cross workers said this was their first day with a new computer system and there might be “a few” bumps.

All in all, the donation went fine.  Sure, it took longer than anybody wanted as the workers figured out random glitches and surprises, but they remained in good spirits.

As I headed for the tiny space where water, juice, and treats were kept, I was not offered my coupon, my reward, my carrot dangled above the puffy bag of blood I’d given.  An older gentleman, who had also given blood, was tucking his coupon in his shirt pocket as we guzzled water and proved we could remain vertical.  I eyed him with lust.
“How’d you get your coupon?” I asked between drinks.

“Didn’t you get one?” he said as he looked down the narrow aisle of the bloodmobile. “They’re having a hard time with the new system and probably forgot.”

He looked down the corridor again.  “Hey! She didn’t get her coupon!”

I tried to look pale and needy. Only custard ice cream would help.

A Red Cross worker quickly produced the prize and disappeared into the confusion once again.

I’m sure the emails, calls, and cards will continue.  I’m sure I will continue to give despite the onslaught of requests, reminders, and guilt.  But I’m liking the pint for a pint offer.  It was the best part of my day.