English Version: Dandelions in the Wind

49

The park was vibrant, with large tents, a big stage ready for a concert, several floats for the parade, and various booths selling drinks and food.

The sky was overcast but not cloudy, seemingly in tune with the upcoming pride parade. Georgia wore a white t-shirt and snug jeans, an ID badge hanging around her neck, and a clipboard in her left hand while she held a small megaphone in the other. She directed the volunteers with the urgency of a sergeant commanding soldiers, causing a flurry of activity among them, most of whom were interns from a law firm.

"Tom! Tom!" Georgia's voice thundered from the megaphone as she waved her clipboard. Tom, a lanky intern with a mop of unruly hair, dashed towards her. "The rainbow flags are supposed to be in ROYGBIV order, not some abstract interpretation! And who put the purple before the blue? Are we in kindergarten?" Her tone was sharp, infused with doubt and urgency.

Tom blanched, scratching his head in a mix of confusion and embarrassment. "Got it, Georgia. I'll fix it right away," he stammered, rushing to correct the mishap.

"And you," Georgia pivoted on her heel to address another volunteer adjusting a banner. "The banner is sagging like my patience. It needs to be tighter than my jeans. Pull it up! Higher!" she instructed, her voice brooking no argument.

The volunteer, a robust young man with a keen eye for detail, quickly tightened the rope, hoisting the banner higher. Georgia released a frustrated sigh and turned her sharp gaze towards Max, her ever-present assistant, who had been tailing her closely.

"Max, where are the flyers for the parade schedule?" she demanded, her patience wearing thin as she tapped her foot and planted her hands firmly on her hips.

Max, the resourceful aide, rifled through his folder in a flurry. "Right here, Georgia. Fresh off the press," he said, presenting her with a flyer.

Georgia snatched the flyer, and her brows furrowed as she inspected it. "Max, the font is Comic Sans. COMIC SANS," she emphasized each word, her dismay palpable. "Do I look like I'm running a clown convention? Fix it!" she commanded with authority.

Max exhaled deeply, a subtle eye roll escaping as he absorbed her critique. "Sure thing, Georgia. I'll get right on it."

A volunteer approached, her white t-shirt adorned with a nametag that read "Lisa," she was carrying a box. "Georgia, where do you want the glitter cannons set up?" Lisa asked.

Georgia's furrowed brows smoothed into a smile. "Finally, someone speaking my language. Glitter cannons should be at the front! We need more sparkle than a drag queen's wardrobe."

Lisa beamed at the response. "Got it, Georgia. Glitter overload, coming right up."

After Lisa left, Tracy approached Georgia. "You know, babe, you're like a cross between Miranda Priestley from 'The Devil Wears Prada' and Godzilla right now," Tracy teased with a chuckle. Even Dionne, another volunteer, hadn't escaped Georgia's sharp commands yet.

Georgia shot Tracy a stern look. "Oh, please. If I don't whip these people into shape, this parade will look like a preschool art project. We need perfection, babe. This is our chance to shine!"

Tracy laughed. "I get it. But maybe take a breather before you scare off all the volunteers. They're trying their best."

Georgia sighed, her expression softening. "You're right. I want everything to be perfect. This parade means so much to everyone," she responded gently, learning to calm herself.

Tracy affectionately squeezed Georgia's shoulder. "And it will be because you're running it. Just remember, perfection isn't just in the details; it's in the spirit of the event."