Give it Away

     When my nephew planned to visit us over spring break, I panicked. How do you entertain a 16-year-old boy for four days? I thought he might like the play Shear Madness at the Kennedy Center, a witty comedy with lots of audience participation. I logged onto the Kennedy Center’s website and scanned the available seats. There weren’t many left but I picked the two best seats available and clicked the “purchase” link. An electronic timer told me I had a 20 minute hold on the seats so I filled in the reservation and billing information as fast as I could. A slew of disclaimers and warnings popped up, which I impatiently clicked past until the confirmation page appeared. Done! I congratulated myself on my fast-acting brilliance. 
     
      Except that in my haste, I bought the tickets for a performance a week before his arrival. I reread those disclaimers and warnings again. No refunds. No date switching. What to do?
     
      Time for more fast-acting brilliance. I emailed my friends. Not interested, they said. I posted on Craigslist, advertising the deal of the month. No luck. What if I donated them?  Maybe a charity could auction them as a fundraiser. Nope. With the performance date within two weeks, it sounded like way too much work.
     
      So I called a dear, wonderful friend, a single mom who juggles a high-pressure job with raising a preteen girl. Could she could leave work at a decent hour and take her daughter to a Thursday night, 5 p.m. performance?
     
      Yes! She almost screamed into the phone. If I’d flown her to Bali for a spa weekend she couldn’t have been happier. My friend, it turns out, suffers from Single Working Mom Guilt Syndrome (SWMSG), which seems to afflict nearly 100% of single working moms. SWMSG and SWDGS (for the dads) have no known cure, although it mysteriously vanishes the day the kids move out of the house. Aside from a brief respite on Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, symptoms include a continual stream of stress, anxiety and the recurrent desire to clone and teletransport.
     
      Who knew that a pair of tickets could provide temporary relief from such an insidious illness? The play was six weeks ago and my friend and her daughter still talk about it. They quote from it, laugh about it and might even see it again. That wonderful experience, my friend said, would have never happened had I not called her.
     
      Looking back, I’m glad that no one bought the tickets from me. Actually, I’m kind of glad that I accidentally bought them in the first place.
     
      And my nephew and I saw the play the following week.
     
      Get out and give back.