Monday, 14 December 2015
It's Christmas time
This year, bringing forth my Ebenezer Scrooge nature, I wrote to all relatives and friends making a pact of some sort. I suggested we don't buy presents for each other but instead we say a little prayer for each other. It's a much more valuable gift and costs nothing in monetary funds to my ailing wallet. Most agreed. At least, by not responding to my e-mail I took it they agreed.
Some have already broken the truce by sending us early presents to put under the tree. This means they have put us (me) under an obligation to purchase something of equal or greater value; that is if we knew what's in the wrapped parcels. How inconvenient.
I was given a list of items to purchase from town during lunch break from work. I ran from shop to shop buying the items on the list and soon discovered that I was running out of money.
I went to the bank for more cash because I needed some money to put in the Church collection. They have a system in our church whereby they give you 52 envelopes with your number on it. Every Sunday you put some money in the envelope, seal it, and drop it in the collection tray. No one knows what you have given except the church treasurer. He opens the envelopes and records what you have given using the number printed on the outside to identify you. At year end, he tells the Government how much you have donated and the Government gives the church a donation based on a percentage of your donation. So the church gets more from what you've donated.
I suggested to the priest we use credit card transactions during collection time; and he frowned at me without responding. So I needed some cash.
At the bank all the machines giving out cash were out of order. So many people withdrew cash that the machines were empty. I had to queue to get cash from the counter.
At the counter, whilst the young lady was cashing my cheque the phone on her desk rang. It was a personal call. She just learnt that her favourite aunt had died. She was totally distraught and sat there staring into space doing nothing. I was in a hurry to get my cash and get on with my purchases. I did not want to be late back at work.
As tactically as I could, and as gentle too, (as you know I am, dear readers), I suggested to her that her aunt would still be dead in ten minutes. Could she cash my cheque and grieve later?
She burst into tears and ran away. I had to wait until another cashier came to complete the transaction.
When I got to work I discovered that my secretary was upset and crying her heart out because her cat had died that morning.
In order to prove my kind heartedness, and in the spirit of Christmas, I went out again and bought her an identical cat.
When she saw it she was even more upset because she now has two dead cats!
I never win.
Labels: A Christmas tale, Chocolate Christmas, christmas, CHRISTMAS AT THEODORE’S, Father Christmas, Gertrude's Christmas, It's Christmas time