My family experienced this forced march last night. The slow, painful process began by soberly gathering the children, fixing hair, teeth, and sundry items of clothing to look just so, all the while explaining again to them why exactly we were getting all dressed up on a Wednesday night. Then piling into the car and racing to meet at the appointed time, we purposefully ignored the scores of bikers, joggers, couples and puppies not on their way to a church photo session and actually enjoying the glorious spring evening.
After arriving and enduring a 30 minute delay, we were escorted into the Sunday school classroom-turned-photo studio where we met Kyle, our affable, overworked, and perspiring photographer.
Pity the church directory photographer on a 12 hour shift.
After the usual poses and recitations of “Fuzzy Pickle!” to futilely coerce a smile from our two now tired and unamused children, we were done and escorted into the Sunday school classroom-turned-sales office. It was there we met the sales guy – Kyle the photographer.
Thoughts of Glengarry Glen Ross ran through my mind as he vigorously tried to sell us packages of his work. Our constant refusals to buy brought increasingly pronounced expressions of disbelief across his sad face and, remarkably, his thin, paisley tie. All we wanted was to participate in the pictorial directory. Instead, we felt like we were at once rejecting the work of an artiste and refusing to help someone in need. Ugh.
The whole process was rather distasteful – and seems rather out of step with advanced technology that could allow a much quicker and painless process. (Not unlike the archaic way we continue to count parishioners at worship.)
For example, why couldn’t the family gather in front of a webcam to capture a quality image.
Like this one.
Bring on your photo directory solutions.
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