Trapped

When I was young, I used to collect the book from all of the people at the end of the services every Saturday. It was cute and it was useful, as the bookshelf was in the front of the room and the door was in the back, so my quick action saved everyone the trouble of going to the front of the room and then back, not to mention the traffic jam. The problem is, now I am eighteen and the bookshelf is right next to the door, and I can' t think of any way to get out of the whole silly arrangement. My collecting books has become such a staple in the synagauge, one of those traditions (It's been going on for over ten years, and almost as long as the synagauge has been in its current location) that everybody knows and loves. After a year a way in Israel, I know that it gave everyone a warm feeling to see me back at work collecting and I hate to disappoint all the old ladies who have come to rely on me. Really, quite annoying, since I know that I am basically useful, but dare not pull out lest I have to discuss it for weeks on end at the Kiddush after prayers. The only escape I have is that I'm going off to college next week and probably won't be collecting the books there, but I know that everytime I come home to visit, I'll have to collect everyone's books or terribly disappoint the old ladies.
It seems like a metaphor for something, but I can't quite think what.