This is Part 3 in my Day In The Life series. Catch up on Part 1 and Part 2!

Katie and I present our research findings to the working group. It is much smoother than either of us expected with no questions from the group, much to our surprise.

Imdad. 1:30 pm. I buy halloumi sandwiches for myself and the girls, then check my phone and try to deal with the mounting phone calls. Leen has called. Lara. Nadia. Yasmin. Lara needs the quarterly report to be proofread ASAP.

I stand in the gravel lot outside Imdad, holding half a halloumi and tomato sandwich under the beating sun, racking my brain to think who in the Amman office can help me. I mentally scan the four floors of RWG’s office. Which of the expat staff are in today? I need a native English speaker to proofread this report.

I call Carly. Carly, I know this is not your job but can you please do me a favor? Carly is a fellow Midwesterner and the assistant to our CEO; this is very much not her job. But we’re friends, she can tell from my tone that I am having One Of Those Days, and she’s willing to help. I point Carly in the direction of the donor’s online portal and give her login details. Then I walk back into the café and try to forget about the report for a few minutes.

I talk with Katie and the others about how the presentation was so much better than we expected. We finish our sandwiches, pile into the car, and bounce down the road back to the youth center. Thirty minutes to go before Salma’s Skype call with Hannah from the UN in New York.

Back at the center, Leen calls again and tells me I need to upload four financial documents to the donor’s portal as soon as I can, to go with the quarterly report: the bank reconciliation form, list of transactions, note to file, and budget reallocation form. I tell her with a jolt of annoyance that I have no idea what any of these are and cannot upload them.

Hanging up, I look up and see the trailer-as-staff-office with its beautiful new mural. Hamza and Yusuf are still painting it, but almost done. Odai has just stepped out of the trailer and flashes me a grin and a thumbs up. Inside me, a swelling of pride and affection for my team.

Wow. I forgot I do actually love my job. And these guys. Look at this beautiful paint job they’ve done. This trailer looked so boring before. So nice now! I wonder who designed it? I wish people could see this. I wish people could think of refugees as people, artists, designers.

I smile back at Odai and snap a photo.

My phone rings again. It’s Lara from our UN donor, telling me some of the indicators have not been calculated correctly in the report. I step into one of the other trailers to argue with her about this, but there isn’t a strong enough cell network for calls in there, so I step back outside and sit on one of the benches in the courtyard. Perching my laptop on my lap and squinting to see the screen in the bright afternoon sun, I explain how we did the calculations. Lara and I argue politely about who’s right, who’s wrong, and how this should be done.

We settle on her method, of course, and I promise to make edits later. We hang up and I notice that it is now 2:22 pm. I have exactly eight minutes to present Katie with her gift, get Ghassan to disconnect the computer room from the internet so we’ll have a strong enough connection in the small office for Skype, and set up the call with Salma. Keep moving, keep – Abu Fayez is suddenly here, standing in front of me.

“Did you read the paper I gave you?” (See Day In The Life 2: The Note.)

“Yes, I read it.”

“So if I leave it with you will it do any good? Will it make a difference?”

With my heart breaking for him: “No, Abu Fayez. I’m sorry. This is out of my hands and there is nothing I can do for you.”

He’s standing in front of me, arm across his forehead to shield his eyes from the beating sun, holding on to some kind of hope. I am not sure why Abu Fayez, with whom I’ve worked for years, has picked today to hand me his handwritten plea-to-anyone, nor why he thinks I may be able to help him get to Canada.

If getting refugees to Canada was within my capacity as a Program Officer at RWG Global, wouldn’t I have done that years ago?

“What if I brought it to the UNHCR office here in the camp and showed it to them?”

“I don’t think they can do anything for you. But you could try.”

“Should I bring it to the UNHCR office in Amman? Maybe that’s better.”

“No, UNHCR is the same everywhere. It won’t make any difference if you bring it to them in Zaatari or Amman.” (It won’t make a difference whatever you do with this piece of paper, actually. Best of luck. Godspeed.)

“Okay. So there is nothing you can do for me?”

This seems to be the theme of my job. I can edit Powerpoint slides, convene meetings, prepare thank you gifts for volunteers, review reports, drive to base camp, present research findings, drive back from base camp, argue with donors about reporting requirements, plan trainings in Aqaba. Yet there does not seem to be anything I can do for anyone.

“I’m really sorry,” I say again, “I have to go.”

I walk/run to the art room, grab the gift they’ve picked out for Katie – momentarily marvel at the detailed mosaic of an olive tree – and take it in to where she is chatting with staff in the newly painted trailer.

I give the world’s shortest speech, “Katie this is just a very small and simple token of thanks for all your amazing work with us over the past few months,” which is followed by another short speech from Yusuf. He presents her with the olive tree and we take a few photos to commemorate her final day with us in the camp.

I race to Salma’s desk in the smallest office trailer. Thankfully, she has Skype set up and ready to go.

Coming next week: Part 4, the final installment of my Day In The Life series. Thank you for reading!