it's christmas time in hollace queens
Hey. C'mere. Want to know a Christmas secret?
I love corporate Christmas gifts. You know, the tokens that accountants and lawyers and companies send each other just to say, "we're still here and we still like your money."
I feel as though the corporate world is too jaded to appreciate these gifts. Probably because everyone knows that it was a secretary that picked it out, signed the boss's name on it and shipped it to you. Since this unspoken truth looms over every corporate gift, it's difficult to really feel deeply and personally touched by the set of steak knives from your bank.
Big Jer got a set of steak knives from his bank. 8 Wusthof steak knives with a lovely mirror-finish,in their own little wooden display box. He seemed nonplussed at this gift. I'll probably be stealing them and checking them... John Locke style.
But no corporate gift fills me with more jealous hope that I might someday be a recipient than the Fruit of the Month Club. Food. In your mail. Every month. How awesome is that? But the FMC is much maligned and the object of mockery and scorn. Everyone who gets a FMC membership seems put out. "What am I going to do with all these Riviera pears?" You eat them! It's free food, what are you complaining about?
Yet, in a tragic stroke of cosmic irony, I seem to be the only person who thinks that the FMC is cool, but the only person who seems to not be getting signed up for Christmas. Until that day, I'll keep dog-earing the pages of the Harry & David catalogue, dreaming of exotic nectarines.
So dear readers - if you and I ever do business, just know that when the holiday season rolls around, and you send me a corporate gift, be it cuttlery, produce, confections, or (fingers crossed) pork products, just know that I will love and cherish it. And I will personally ask one of my secretaries to send you something in yule-tide reciprocity. It will probaby be fruit.
Want to know another Christmas secret? That song "Carol of the Bells" kinda scares me. When you wish me a Merry Christmas in minor key, I don't so much feel that you wish me good tidings as much as you want me to die as soon as possible.
I love corporate Christmas gifts. You know, the tokens that accountants and lawyers and companies send each other just to say, "we're still here and we still like your money."
I feel as though the corporate world is too jaded to appreciate these gifts. Probably because everyone knows that it was a secretary that picked it out, signed the boss's name on it and shipped it to you. Since this unspoken truth looms over every corporate gift, it's difficult to really feel deeply and personally touched by the set of steak knives from your bank.
Big Jer got a set of steak knives from his bank. 8 Wusthof steak knives with a lovely mirror-finish,in their own little wooden display box. He seemed nonplussed at this gift. I'll probably be stealing them and checking them... John Locke style.
But no corporate gift fills me with more jealous hope that I might someday be a recipient than the Fruit of the Month Club. Food. In your mail. Every month. How awesome is that? But the FMC is much maligned and the object of mockery and scorn. Everyone who gets a FMC membership seems put out. "What am I going to do with all these Riviera pears?" You eat them! It's free food, what are you complaining about?
Yet, in a tragic stroke of cosmic irony, I seem to be the only person who thinks that the FMC is cool, but the only person who seems to not be getting signed up for Christmas. Until that day, I'll keep dog-earing the pages of the Harry & David catalogue, dreaming of exotic nectarines.
So dear readers - if you and I ever do business, just know that when the holiday season rolls around, and you send me a corporate gift, be it cuttlery, produce, confections, or (fingers crossed) pork products, just know that I will love and cherish it. And I will personally ask one of my secretaries to send you something in yule-tide reciprocity. It will probaby be fruit.
Want to know another Christmas secret? That song "Carol of the Bells" kinda scares me. When you wish me a Merry Christmas in minor key, I don't so much feel that you wish me good tidings as much as you want me to die as soon as possible.
posted by hoov, esq at 10:59 AM
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