Christmas is a wonderful time of year! It’s always been my favorite. Ever since I was a kid.
Presents, presents, presents! I’m just kidding. It’s not about the presents you get; it’s about family, love, and fun. Well… most of the time.
Today’s post is actually about presents; one particular present.
So, it’s that time again! Our clients usually leave us a box of chocolates, or a coffee card and we do the same. One of our places left us a present–we weren’t expecting one, but it was a happy surprise. It was very thoughtful. Because, after all, it is the thought that counts. Am I right?
Despite the fact that the present was in our supply room we still pick up the present and open the card to see our names. It’s the polite thing to do, even though everyone’s already gone home for the night. What we discovered was… unexpected. (Just like the present). Inside the card in pretty handwriting, it said,
“Merry Christmas, Bob.”
Okay, there is no one on our team named Bob, nor has there ever been. We were offended, and likely so, but we understand mistakes happen, and remember what I said earlier: it’s the thought that counts. It turns out they switched our present with… you guessed it… Bob, and he had already taken ours.
We take the present home, which is a box of no-name chocolates, in case I didn’t mention that before. I open it, snatch one chocolate and on our way out of the van, I dropped the box of chocolates on the ground!
Yes. I did it. Me, of all people, dropping something, go figure.
Anyway, I managed to salvage half the box, so at least everyone else could have some, right?
Wrong! On the way back into the van later on that night, I dropped the box of chocolates on the floor of the van, and lost another half of the box. It was a square-shaped little thing, with only about 15 chocolates to begin with. None to spare.
It’s a good thing I ate one before I dropped it repeatedly, because two days later we were heading to pick up my mother for some holiday shopping and we all decided this tiny box of chocolates was cursed, and we should give it away to redeem our karma.
I thought it was a good plan. I really did.
Until my mother hopped into the van and parked her tiny butt ON THE BOX OF CHOCOLATES!
I would swear by this point, that the horned, red guy with a pitchfork sent us those chocolates to screw with us.
My mother is ninety pounds soaking wet. That’s what makes this so funny. I half expected those demon chocolates to come out unscathed.
But no, they found their end, finally. They had a pretty hard life. It was time. It was time for them to go to chocolate heaven where they could be consumed by some angelic creature, instead of being kicked around, tossed around and sat on.
Goodbye Bob’s Chocolates. You will not be missed.
Note to self: If it’s not yours, maybe, don’t open it.
A Clumsy Writer