Not to Burst Your Balloon

It was the morning of a double graduation party, and I had volunteered to get the balloons filled with helium. You might not think that would be a big deal, but that’s probably because you haven’t tried to have balloons filled recently.

But I wasn’t thinking about a helium shortage or the fact that stores might be held liable for filling balloons purchased elsewhere. I was still an optimist, sure that balloon-filling was within easy reach. So, I grabbed the bag of balloons my son and his friend had purchased a few days before and went off, in my happy-go-lucky way.

At Store 1, I went to the balloon counter.

“Oh, we don’t fill balloons that are purchased elsewhere,” the employee told me. “Our policy changed about a year ago. You could try one of the other stores in the shopping center.”

I thanked them and headed to another store—let’s call that Store 2—and found they didn’t open for another hour.

I tried Store 3, and an employee there told me they also don’t fill balloons unless they are purchased there.

“I don’t actually care what it costs,” I said—not entirely sure that was true, but hoping it might open a door. But, even with those ridiculously cavalier words, I was out of luck. The policies are firm.

So, I went back to Store 1, ordered nine balloons—three red, three yellow, and three black. They were beautiful, and I paid for them, and headed home.

I only had about 45 minutes before we needed to leave for the party, but somehow in that brief time, two of the red balloons popped—one after another. This was not going to work. But it occurred to me that Store 2 would now be open! And I had heard they would fill balloons from outside! So, I raced over there with my bag of pre-purchased balloons, purchased from that very store, in fact.

Getting someone’s attention at the balloon counter was tricky, but when I finally found an employee, I asked her to fill up six red balloons.

“That will be an hour,” she said.

“Oh, never mind,” I said. “I don’t actually have an hour.”

And I started toward the door. But then I stopped—because I figured it would be good to understand the rules for the future.

“So filling balloons always takes an hour?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “It’s just that six and up require more than an hour.”

“Great!” I said. “Can I get two?”

The employee had to get her manager to get approval for what I was starting to realize was an outrageous request on a Saturday morning in June. But the managed shrugged his shoulders and said, “Go ahead and do it for her.” I could have hugged him, but I didn’t because it all seemed pretty precarious.

So, the employee got to work on my two red balloons—purchased from outside—even though she apologized that this was not her skillset. I decided not to tell her that I had plenty of balloon experience myself from my summers working in the party department at Greetings & Readings. Instead I stood there, trying to look grateful and patient and unworried about the fact that I was going to be late arriving to set up for the party.

At least I would have balloons.

Finally, finally, the balloons were filled. It was only then that the employee realized she didn’t know what to charge me. So, she turned again to the manager.

“Those balloons will actually only last an hour,” he said. “Those aren’t the quality you want.”

But they were the quality I had—and they were filled.

“I’ll take them just as they are,” I said. “Just charge me whatever.”

The employees seemed to be stumped. These balloons were inadequate—even though they had purchased from this very store just days earlier—and they didn’t know what to charge me. So, they let me take them for free.

Free is always my favorite price, and I was just happy to have some red balloons to replace the ones that had popped, even if they were not as high-quality as they could or should have been.

I thanked them and headed out to the party.

Now, you might think this story would end with all the comments we received on the beautiful balloons—especially the red ones. But no one noticed the balloons. And, as I look at the many photos from a truly wonderful celebration—I don’t notice them myself. I’m glad we had balloons, but I am not sure they were worth the trouble.

What I do notice are the people.

And truly, when I look back on my balloon escapade, that’s what I remember too—the kind and friendly people who were trying to get me my balloons, but who had to comply with the store policies. In the end, we had balloons, we had a fantastic party, and we had all learned not to buy balloons in advance—or to buy higher-quality ones and to have a solid plan for filling them…or something. Maybe I just learned not to buy balloons.

But you have to admit, balloons are so much fun. And I do love a balloon-filling quest.

As St. Thomas Aquinas said, “Without work, it’s impossible to have fun.”

So, let’s keep doing the work and keep having the fun—with or without the helium.

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