Now that everyone is technically qualified to save you if you are about to die, Carl has divided everyone into teams according to which camp they will be working with. There are three camps in total: Millennium Camp, North Avenue Camp, and Teen Camp.
“Centennial counselors, you guys shouldn't have a problem because that Millennium Elementary school is pretty new. North Avenue Elementary, on the other hand,” he paused. “I don't know how to say it... “It is very rustic.”
“Rustic as in old,” Ashley said flatly.
“So don't be alarmed if the toilets don't work some of the time. It's been a while since they redid the plumbing.”
“And be sure to ask any strange looking men if they actually work at the school and if they don't, please kick them out.”
"Also, you'll be sharing the playground and the cafeteria with the Boys and Girls Club --"
"Ooh, they bad!" one of the fellow trainees shouted out.
"We don't say bad. We just say that there's a lot of them."
"Boys and Girls club got like, two hundred kids a day," Likeevia whispered, "And I don't care what Carl or Ashley say - those kids are straight from the wild, ya'll."
It was time to go out and decorate our respective schools - well, it was time for everyone else to go, seeing as I was still an alternate. Regardless, they sent me out to North Avenue Elementary to help the Teen Camp set up. In addition to housing the North Avenue Children's Camp and the Boys and Girls club, the school would also house the teen camp.
All teams were instructed to padlock any cabinets that stood under five feet. All the the newer locks and plastic ties were given to Millennium Camp. Buying new ones ourselves was out of the question, as Andrea had expressly forbade it for "reimbursement" or "tax reasons." When we inevitably ran out of working locks, we had to figure something else out.
I was wrapping a filing cabinet in some blue shrink-wrap when Carl appeared in the doorway and motioned for me to join him in the hallway. Now that I had shrink-wrapped their cabinets and secured all conveivable exits with furniture blockades, he was going to tell me that my services would not be needed.
Whenever someone asks to speak privately with me, I automatically assume that I am in trouble. As it turned out, one of the counselors for North Avenue Camp had somehow, in between the previous day's First-Aid certification, got pulled over for drunk driving and managed to land herself in jail.
As a result, Parks and Rec gave me her spot.
