Musings from the pro-choice movement, part deux

I had another shift phone banking tonight for my internship. Highlights:

"You don't get paid to work here? You know what's more lucrative than unpaid internships? Drug dealing." - random stoned 'volunteer' doing community service hours for... yep, distribution of illegal substances

(voicemail in a robot voice) "Hell-o. You have reached Bob and Jill. We can-not ans-wer the phone be-cause our bod-ies are curr-ent-ly trapp-ed in an alter-nate un-i-verse. Leave a mess-age and we will re-turn your que-ry at a more con-ve-ni-ent time." Against my better judgment, I left a message. We can use all the help we can get. If Bob and Jill ever feel like taking off their HALO headsets and attempting some civic engagement, I'll be waiting for them.

"Yo, this is Paul, and I work for NARAL, the political arm of the reproductive rights movement. Call us back if you feel like coming to a volunteer training session on Thursday" - drug dealer, not following the script for the twentieth time. You are not employed by us, jackass. Especially if you start out all your cold calling with "yo"

"Oh darling, I can't afford to give any more of my time volunteering. I'll be spending most of my free time doing prairie restoration in southeastern Wisconsin this summer." No explanation needed.

I love my job, I love my job, I love my (unpaid) job...