"When you've been involved with a child cancer patient at Starship you realise how many little children there are out there that need every little bit of help. When it's a 2-year-old, there is absolutely nothing in their life to deserve getting cancer."
As we stand there, numerous people stream by and studiously avoid making eye contact with us, until a gentle old woman comes by with a $2 coin.
"I always donate to child cancer, my nephew died of cancer."
This proves to be a common sentiment with donors.
Handing over loose change, many take the opportunity to share their cancer stories with a sympathetic listener and feel they are doing something for their loved ones.
An hour later, Mrs Vellenoweth's shift ends and Rosaleen Holmes takes up her bib.
Ms Holmes is a veteran collector who began supporting the Child Cancer Foundation after her friend's son died 22 years ago.
"He was diagnosed with cancer when he was 12 and died at 18. He was still a young man but he dealt with everything so calmly. He even organised his funeral, asking for Another One Bites The Dust by Queen to be played."
Hearing everyone's stories, I'm glad I wore my sunglasses to hide the tears welling up in my eyes.
AS appeal co-ordinator Kim Bartley says, the family and friends of a cancer sufferer often feel helpless. By volunteering to collect or by donating money to the foundation's Beads of Courage national appeal, they feel they are doing their bit in a small way.
Mrs Bartley's daughter Ella, now 6, had a large brain tumour removed when she was aged 2. Part of the tumour remains and Ella has to return to Starship Hospital each year for testing.
"We were lucky we got the best-case scenario right through. The tumour was non-aggressive but in saying that, it's something she will have for the rest of her life. There will always be checkups and worries. It's affected her sight, her balance and some of her learning."
The Child Cancer Foundation was there for Ella and her family throughout the ordeal, supplying basic needs such as toiletries and washing machines while Ella underwent surgery at Starship. It also provides a support network of people in a similar situation who are ready with a shoulder to lean on and anxieties to share every time Ella needs to return to hospital. Mrs Bartley takes Ella with her to collect for the foundation and Ella proudly wears her Beads of Courage necklace looped over her blue bib.
MOVING on to Mount Maunganui New World, I am partnered with Dean Roberts, a local committee member and the husband of president Debbie Roberts.
In the quiet moments when donations are scarce, Mr Roberts begins telling me his story.
He and his wife joined the foundation a few years ago after losing their son to cancer.
"We needed a lot of support from Child Cancer Foundation when we were in hospital. Afterwards, life was a bit empty so we wanted to do something. We decided to choose this organisation and help."
And help they do. The couple are involved with organising Christmas parties and day trips for children battling cancer as well as volunteering their time for the day-to-day running of the foundation.
Mr Roberts likes to be hands-on in the foundation so he can prove the money is being used for the good of the children and not for luxuries for the committee members.
He is still wary of talking about his son's death but says people often feel the need to share their stories with him.
"I'm still not ready to share mine but if they want to share, that's okay."
MY last shift for the day is at Fraser Cove Countdown. This time, I'm on my own.
I expect a quiet end to my day, especially after my experiences in Bethlehem and Mount Maunganui.
I am proved wrong quickly.
My booth, in the lowest socio-economic area I've covered, is the busiest I have seen by a long shot.
People make special trips to the ATM to give me money and empty their purses into my waiting bucket. Those who don't donate give me a smile instead of guiltily looking aside.
One young man, who can't have been much past his 18th birthday, hands me a wad of rolled up notes and doesn't even want a sticker to show he donated, simply walking off with a wave and a grin.
An hour-and-a-half later, my bucket weighs half a tonne and I'm ready to hang up my blue bib.
IN my line of work, it is easy to become jaded by the stories I hear daily about the bad side of human nature.
By volunteering for the Child Cancer Foundation, I have been rewarded by seeing the generous spirit of Tauranga people in action, and my faith in humanity has been restored.
Watching people who have been through trials I can't even begin to imagine put on a smile to help others in need has both humbled and amazed me.
I will never avoid eye contact with a bucket shaker again.
