I have been the president of the women’s philanthropy group at my church for a year now. We have meetings and social events throughout the year, but the main focus is fundraising so we can support charitable local and national organizations.

Every summer there is a National Convention where several clergy and delegates meet to discuss past initiatives and introduce new ones. We also hear from speakers, and since the conventions are held in big cities, sprinkle in a bit of fun.

This year, because of Covid, the convention was held virtually. What this means is that over 500 (primarily) Greek women (mostly) between the ages of 50 and 70 (that’s me) would be on a zoom call together. For 7 hours. And since it’s run by Greeks, you can factor in an extra hour or so at least because of something we call Greek Time* and because, hello, it is 500 Greek women on a zoom call.

*Greek Time is when you tell everyone to meet at 7:30 but everyone arrives between 8:00 and 8:30. If you want people to show up on time, you say “NOT GREEK TIME” and then everyone shows up between 7:45 to 8:00. One time I hosted a wedding shower at our home for some of Ted’s non-Greek friends when we first got married. The party invitation said 6pm. When the doorbell rang at 6pm I was annoyed, panicked, confused, but mostly NOT READY. It was then that I realized that even though I had been aware of Greek Time for my entire life I did not realize that Americans (which is what we Greeks call non-Greeks even though we are also American. It doesn’t make sense I know just go with it) arrive ON TIME. Like, if the party is at 4pm they show up at 4pm. It’s a hard concept to grasp, I know.

Back to the online convention. We have been instructed to have an appropriate background and dress professionally and refrain from eating during the meeting. Check, Check, ummm…

Since the convention was supposed to be held in Cleveland, our entertainment part of the day has been changed from a tour of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame to a prerecorded video hosted by a representative from the museum who looks the love child of Mama Cass and Weird Al. The presentation is certainly interesting and entertaining, but I will admit, after so many hours of looking at a screen, it is hard for me to give it my full attention. I am starting to get a headache and I have that feeling of exhaustion you get when you do nothing all day. Nevertheless, I keep one eye on the screen because we have been informed that soon there will be a Rock and Roll Trivia Game. If there is one thing I am good at it is trivia and if there is one thing I am it is competitive (except for with sports as I know I am not athletic). I do not want to miss the contest which I feel sure I will win based on the demographic of the contestants. Let’s face it, I am on a call in which 70% of the people owned 8-tracks. I am a shoe-in to win a contest about music. Unless this quiz is going to ask questions about Simon and Garfunkel or Steely Dan, I am going to win.

The contest begins and I quickly realize that my cockiness was unwarranted as the questions are based off the 20 minute video we just watched that I was only half paying attention to. How many square feet is the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? How should I know? Why don’t you ask me which Spice Girl I would be? Posh, obviously. (Okay, fine. Probably Scary). What year was the first band inducted? Who cares? I can name all the boys in One Direction, does that count for anything? Why was Cleveland chosen for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? I don’t know! But you should see me do the dance from Thriller!

Shockingly, I tank on the Rock and Roll Trivia Game. It turns out Haroula, 79, from Pittsburgh was paying a lot more attention than I was. Which is fine because it turns out the prize was a life alert necklace. JUST KIDDING! Do NOT write me letters or impeach me from my presidency please. Zayn, Liam, Niall, Harry, and Louis and I were just making a joke. Sheesh.

It is hour six, and by now I am not even trying to hide the fact that I am snacking. I have also moved from my desk chair to the couch in the playroom which is still in peak toddler decor complete with princess frogs painted on the wall behind me. I do not care. I see a lady in her square with her head in her hands, looking down and dejected. As if she has given up on any hope of saving the rest of the day. Same lady, same. I see another lady lounging comfortably on her couch. I feel sure this is against the rules. Another woman has only her neck in the frame. I notice with absolute glee there is a woman GETTING INTO HER BED with her dog! It’s like I am in my own version of Rear Window except I am not anywhere near as elegant as Grace Kelly and Ted is no Jimmy Stewart and even if for any reason he was injured enough to be in a wheelchair temporarily (like say, a bee sting, or a scratch from a twig) he would not be spearheading an investigation. He would be too weak and I would be too busy waiting on him while completely annoyed.

But I digress.

We are nearing the end and one of the final speakers is just finishing up her presentation. When she is finished, the moderator asks if there are any questions. There is a strict protocol where you raise your digital hand, wait to be called on, and then un-mute yourself to ask the question. When questions are over, they are over. You cannot ask a question about a previous presentation.

What happens next is the most exciting part of the convention. Althea from Rocky River raises her digital hand and she is not happy. Althea wants us to know that she was called on during the last Q & A period but she was not unmuted by the moderator so she could not speak. She then proceeds to tell us what question she was GOING to ask if she were allowed. She ends her comment by saying, “I will take a pass on asking my question.” And then she smiles into the camera. But she is doing that Greek elderly thing where she is smiling but she is not happy and you can just tell. I don’t know if grandmas in other cultures do this but if you have seen it you know. It’s a passive-aggressive smile that makes you nervous-laugh while the hair on your arms stands up.

Side Note: I first remember experiencing this smile from my Yiayia circa 1987 and I believe we still have the episode on video somewhere. It was several years after my Papou had passed away and she was still wearing all black, the custom for Greek widows from a certain time. She had maybe ventured into navy and brown, but patterns and colors were non-negotiable. So she opens her Christmas gift to see my mother and aunt have given her a lovely dark maroon dress, very modest and simple. With a look of shock, disdain, and horror, she exclaims “A RED SHIRT?” closes the box and says, “No.” She then looks up, sees the video camera, remembers she is being filmed, and says “Thank you,” and smiles.

THAT is the smile, dear readers, that Althea is currently giving the moderator.

And that would have been entertaining enough for me, but what comes next is just an added bonus. For whatever reason, Althea does not mute herself back up. Which means she is still on full-screen. So the next thing you know, poor Althea, WHILE ON FULL-SCREEN, gets up and starts walking around her bedroom hanging up clothes. Did I mention she is on full screen? I wish I had a picture. Okay, I do. But I have to show some restraint. Let’s just say that for around 60 glorious seconds, 500 convention goers watched, spellbound, as Althea reorganized her closet.

It was a pretty good ending to a long day. I heard the next convention is in New York. I better start brushing up on my pizza trivia…

***Names, ages, and cities have been changed to protect the innocent. There is also a good chance stories have been embellished.***