Do you have any idea how difficult it is to put 7 shirts into a gift basket/box so they are all visible? The result? You can’t read any of them. The shirt under the tag? Drinking for Two, of course.
In the drama of getting the baskets together for the Hollywood stars, I thought I was alone when I walked into the CFFG’s office. I heard the sound of Rush on the radio in the back room and walked around the corner to see a white-haired gentleman washing chocolate fountains in the industrial-sized sinks.
K: Hello. You must be Sam, Melissa’s dad.
S: Well, HELLO there.
K: So nice to meet you.
We chit-chatted for a while. And then, it came, as I can only describe it, out of the blue.
S: Aren’t you a pretty thing?
K: Why…..thank you?
I felt the sudden urge to lean up and touch my hair. My hair that had been washed every other day for years, but probably hadn’t seen a brush since the late ’80s. I refrained.
S: You married?
Maybe I should have mentioned that Sam turned 80 this year. Maybe that information doesn’t matter. Who knows? I’ll just throw it out there for good measure.
K: As a matter of fact, I am. And I have two small boys.
S: Hm. Are you happily married?
K: (laughing) As a matter of fact, I am VERY happily married.
S: I was just wondering if you were interested in upgrading. But if you are happily married, then I guess that’s good for you.
K: It is.
S: How old are you?
K: Well, I’m (mumbling).
S: You are too old for me. But only by a year. I can give you…what is that thing the pope gives…compensation?
K: (thinking, “If only the pope was giving compensation”) Dispensation?
S: Dispensation. That’s right.
K: But I heard you only like redheads.
S: Eh. I can give you a dispensation for that too.
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