Another great Commuter Challenge Ambassador Blog Post from Sarah over at the UM Dermatology Administration.

In a strange way, I thought being a Commuter Ambassador would give me power. I’d get a flashy badge, bragging rights, some vague form of authority. I would get to drill the troops, give pep talks and rallying speeches, eventually have my likeness bronzed and placed at the top of a public building’s steps. And of course, I would have what any cubicle-dwelling daydreamer wants: I would have street cred.

Sadly, our ‘troops’ aren’t even enough to warrant a group. Actually, we’re more of an ‘us.’ The number of participants is down mainly due to extenuating circumstances—two walkers have sought greener pastures outside the department, and our star biker is out this year due to an otherwise wonderful and happy pregnancy. I’ve discovered it’s hard to wield authority over one person without feeling like a babysitter, and the fact that that person is your superior is just plain awkward. I was about to hang up my hat (no, I didn’t make a hat. Well, I don’t wear it) when I got the news that I would be in charge of handing out prizes.

I thought, “hey, some stickers, a button, no big whoop”–and then I opened the envelope and let out a very big whoop indeed. Not only buttons, but a flashing LED tag for biking, a UM keychain and a mini-flashlight. These weren’t just promotional products. This was SWAG. I felt like I did the very first year I was allowed to hand out Halloween candy. Sometimes there are half-hours between kids, and nobody’s watching…

Thankfully, the little note attached to the prizes kept me straight: “Please do not keep these.” Well, sure; easy for you to say. But the second I give away this keychain flashlight I’m going to drop my keys behind the couch. Then where will I be?

I decided I couldn’t be trusted with such treasures. The temptation was too great. If I had been Frodo, the Shire would be burned and we would all have been enslaved by orcs.

The note went on to say that prizes could be given to any person using ‘green’ transport, which increased the number of victims to take this precious loot off my hands. The keychain went to my fellow teammate; that was easy. The buttons and stickers, I reasoned, could get the word out, and I used them to expound on the challenge at length to carbon-impaired coworkers. One of them begged for a button, citing her use of the campus shuttle. I wasn’t the only one seeing these things as candy. (It helps that the little bird buttons are cute.)

Almost rid of my booty, I reminded our pouting biker that her busing from the parking lot counts. If you see her walking her dog with a flashing LED on its leash, tell her she’s already setting a great example.

And now, empty-handed, I suppose I do have a little power after all.