Tuesday, July 23, 2013

I Just Might Need an Intervention

I returned from lunch the other day to find the Taffy Fairy from the university's bookstore had visited my desk. 

The bookstore promotions folks are lovely people, really. They email us when there are specials and they invite us, every year, to the big Office Products Show…where we wander around checking out vendor booths with all the great new merchandise. (WOW!! Have you seen the super new file folder styles??? Gosh, look at that cute little ball point pen, what a great idea to add a lanyard so you will never lose it! I mean, c’mon guys…how exciting ARE office products???)

But it's still fun to go to the show…occasionally they do have cool new things that give me the warm fuzzies. They also have drawings for awesome stuff – like iPads or zip drives or laptop cases. And we always leave with plastic bags chock-full of give-away items (more of those nifty file folders and pens-on-a-cord type of things, but still free - and even if you don't actually NEED it, free is always good).

And then every few months they also send the Taffy Fairy around to all the offices where they fill up our custom-monogrammed (with the bookstore logo) candy jars with salt water taffy.

We’re supposed to place these jars strategically on our desks so everyone in the office can enjoy the bookstore’s largesse.

Unfortunately, this is a problem for me. I’m hooked on sugar. I know…it’s bad for you. It does awful things to your spleen…or is it your pancreas? Liver? No, that’s alcohol… But it’s bad. I have a love/hate relationship with sugar. I love it. It hates me. (That’s actually been the story of most of my relationships.)

So here is MY candy jar today:

And here are the other jars in my area:

Notice anything? Yes, their jars are still mostly full. Mine is mostly empty. (Except for the white ones – those are licorice. I loathe licorice.)

For me these randomly frequent bestowals are equivalent to someone helpfully passing out mini-bottles at the door of an AA meeting. Or a kind, generous soul cooking up some crack at the Betty Ford Clinic.

I should ask them to stop bringing taffy. But I’m not going to.