So, here's another tale of non-profit failure that didn't make it into the book. You guys deserve something extra for your patience.
The Great Food Fight
My mother was always involved with various school parent-teacher associations. The PTA in Alberta public and separate schools at the time did more than just raise money for school activities. They used parent labor to subsidize costs of education. For example, they'd host used book sales where kids could get their take-home textbooks at or below cost, and they sold on consignment for only a small percentage to maximize the amount families could get out of the books. The percentage they collected went to subsidize the cost of loaner books so that even the poorest kids had access. It was a useful service that benefited everyone.
Among these labor-based service activities was a cafeteria initiative. Most junior and senior high school students brought a lunch, but the cafeteria included a food preparation and service area. The PTA would buy fruit, carrots, sandwich fixings, and milk and juice boxes in bulk quantities. Every day a different group of parents would get together and slice the cheese, make and wrap the sandwiches, and label everything. It was a clean, easy operation. Everyone wore gloves and the sandwiches were kept in the fridge until they were needed.
These were tasty, well-stuffed sandwiches made with the best ingredients. The parents didn't stint when piling on the corned beef or the turkey breast. The cheese was real cheddar, the bread was rye or good durum wheat, and the condiments were fresh. Nobody was afraid to put on an extra slice of pickle or to slather on the peanut butter and jelly. If there was a kid who had allergies all it took was a word to a parent who could make up a custom sandwich on the spot if needed. The parents knew it was
their kids they were feeding, so they made up the food exactly as if they were at home. Sometimes, for special occasions, homemade cookies were available.
The food was bought in bulk and sold at just above cost, so it was possible for a kid to eat very well and have a fresh sandwich, a piece of fruit, some carrot sticks and either milk or juice for about $2 in today's dollars. No candy or junk food was offered. But if a child who had forgotten his or her lunch (or who was in a bad situation at home and wasn't being fed), that child went to the office and got a slip of paper from the school counselor or the office secretary to hand to the cashier. The savings came from two things: the fact the food was bought in bulk, and the fact the labor was free.
When the lunch bell rang, the parents pulled the trays of sandwiches out of the fridge and the teens converged on the lunchroom. Sometimes they had to eat in shifts, because the junior high school and high school shared the same lunchroom. I do believe the parents who were able to work the lunchroom liked having a glimpse of their child during the school day. Most of the parents who volunteered were either of the stay-at-home persuasion or shift workers who came in on a day off. This improved lunchroom discipline overall, and it also helped to feed a group of kids who wouldn't otherwise have had access to lunch. Furthermore, since several parents were making the sandwiches it offered kids a chance to try something different.
Naturally, something that works this well and runs this smoothly will eventually be fucked with by a bureaucrat. I heard the story secondhand from my mother. Actually, I was eavesdropping as she dished the details to one of her best friends. She later shared the story with me, minus the expletives, but I've filled them back in to the extent I am able.
Along came the school board, who insisted that the work be "supervised" by a properly trained union employee with appropriate credentials in cafeteria management. The fact that the volunteer group included a professional cook and a restaurant owner already didn't count: it had to be a member of the union. Or else. Because quality.
"Fine," said the parents. "Go on and send him or her. We might be able to learn something."
Well... there was a problem. You see, the school board wasn't going to pay for that employee to be there. The money to pay his or her wage, plus taxes and benefits, had to come out of the food being sold in the cafeteria. So the PTA called an emergency meeting.
"I have a solution," said the school board administrator, who produced a spreadsheet. "Just start buying basic white bread instead of premium bread, switch to processed cheese instead of cheddar and Swiss, take the jelly out and go easy on the peanut butter, and lay off the pickles, lettuce, and tomato. Swap out the turkey breast and corned beef with bologna. The kids won't know the difference. And, have you considered getting day-old bread?"
The parents conferred. Someone ran the numbers and realized her son wouldn't be able to get the extra protein he needed as a growing student athlete who worked out twice a day. Another woman spoke up and asked whether anyone really knew what went into processed cheese. Nobody did. It was pretty obvious that the kids would indeed notice the difference, if they were suddenly asked to eat a bunch of crap their parents wouldn't consider buying or serving at home.
"We could manage it," said one of the PTA volunteers with an accounting background, "if we raise prices by a factor of two to three. Basically we'd be starting a business."
"A business lots of these kids can't afford to buy from," said another parent. "And what are the kids with no lunches going to do?
"They're asking us to work for free in order to pay the wage of someone who's not going to do anything except sit around. Who do they think they are: the government?" This man got a laugh, but then someone pointed out that the school board technically
is government.
When the dust settled, nobody had been run through the cheese slicer or stuffed in a cupboard but one thing was certain. There was absolutely no way to accommodate the bureaucrat's demands without sacrificing quality, price, or both. So the parents voted unanimously to end the school sandwich operation and let the school board do whatever it wanted, without their involvement.
Shortly afterwards, the school boards started to contract out the high school cafeterias out to a catering company that started selling burgers, fries, soft drinks, candy, chips, and not much else at prices comparable with any fast food joint. Not much money can be made that way, so turnover was frequent. The kids got greasy slop to eat and continued to bring their lunches from home so they'd have something edible. A contractor made money at least for a while, the school board got to check a box, the union collected their dues, nutrition took a nose dive, and the poorer kids went hungry again.