The Sign-In Sheet
October 17, 2024
Last night, I was one of the few who attended the budget open house at the Kiwanis Center. I expected a light turnout and I wasn’t happy to have been right as us lowly taxpayers were easily outnumbered by politicians and staff.
I had fully expected a sign-in sheet at the desk when I walked in. It was there in each such event I had attended in the past and sure enough, it was there once again. But this time, even before setting foot in the building, I had decided that I wasn’t going to sign in. Just because. I didn’t need a reason. Still don’t. I had a right to be there. And, if I so chose, to be anonymous. Not that it was that big of a deal, but who I was wasn’t any of their business.
I approached the table and took one of the thick handouts. The girl, as expected, said, “Please sign in if you don’t mind.”
“I mind,” I said.
I stepped away and took a seat.
Thinking nothing of blowing off the sign-in process, I took out my notepad and began thumbing through the wad of paper, taking the time to laugh at the flowery text on the front page. From authentic wine and culinary experiences to unique festivals, lively cultural happenings, thrilling sporting events and stunning scenery, St. Catharines is at the heart of it all, they said. Our downtown alone is a testament to this vibrancy, with over $300 million invested in transformative projects, including over $200 million in new residential developments since 2013. Not merely Niagara’s business hub; it’s a thriving, diverse community where businesses prosper and individuals flourish.
A narrative clearly crafted by a gifted storyteller who doesn’t get around our downtown much, I thought. The only businesses that are prospering are the lumber supply companies providing the plywood for the boarded-up storefronts on St. Paul Street. And the only individuals who are flourishing are the bums who happen to find some buried treasure such as a half-eaten meal at the bottom of a garbage bin. I couldn’t imagine how much I paid to have someone write that.
Then I heard some grumbling over at the desk.
“He didn’t sign in.”
Oh, oh. The troublemaker is in their cross-hairs.
Sure enough, an instant later, I looked up and found some kid standing over me shoving a clipboard in my face.
“You are required to sign in,” he said.
Oh really? I thought. Required?
“No,” I promptly replied. He didn’t budge.
“What are you going do, kick me out?”
He finally realized he was fighting a losing battle and shuffled back to the desk, taking his clipboard with him. No doubt I completely ruined their day. I’m darned proud of that. And rest assured, I won’t be signing in at any more of these events either.
Just because.
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