Dear WSFS,
Last week, while driving to pick up my dog from his anal gland surgery, I noticed your sign:
Admittedly, I was a little intimidated by such a vague writing prompt. I mean, “Everyone has a story, tell us yours” lacks any real direction, and I prefer to work within well defined parameters. However, I considered it a challenge and started brainstorming almost immediately.
I asked myself “Candy Ass (positive self-talk), what type of story would WSFS be interested in? Maybe a cute animal story? Maybe a human interest piece?”
And then it occurred to me…I could write about the time I saved my cat by performing CPR! But I’d leave out the part where I got flustered and also gave him the Heimlich maneuver (he was never choking). *FYI- the Heimlich is extremely difficult to perform on an unconscious cat. They keep flopping over at the waist.
I ran the cat idea by my husband but, although impressed by my heroism, he suggested that perhaps you were looking for a story with a financial focus. That made sense.
After hearing that, my mind went straight to my childhood “Day After Easter” resale business.
I actually never cared much for candy but, between my parents and grandparents, I received 3 Easter baskets every year. And every year, on the day after Easter, I would set up a table at the end of my driveway and sell my surplus of candy to the kids in the neighborhood. Afterwards, I’d trash what didn’t sell.
Those kids both loved and despised me. I imagine it’s the kind of relationship a drug dealer has with his druggie clients.
Anyway, business was good until the Easter of 1983. That year I sold only 2 hollow Easter bunnies, a handful of chocolate coins, and 3 bags of jelly beans. I knew with numbers like that I’d never get my Cabbage Patch Kid by the end of the school year. (I was going to name her Andrea and love her forever)
The next day, after drowning my sorrows in a bottomless bowl of Fruit Loops, I hopped on my Huffy and noticed a flyer smacking around in my spokes. I pulled it out:
THE “TWO DAYS AFTER EASTER” CANDY SALE!
Billy’s house 12pm-2pm
cash or trade for Baseball cards
Son of a bitch! I rode right over there…and that candy line was ridiculous!
It took some intimidation, but it turns out that Billy told the kids he’d have cheaper candy and that they should wait for his sale. He then stole MY candy from MY trashcan to sell!
That little ass had undercut me with my own product! (I secretly admired his tactic)
The way I saw it I had 3 options:
1. Give up the Easter candy business
2. Start riding across town to throw away my excess candy.
3. Ruin him.
Not surprisingly, I chose option 3.
The following year I held my sale as usual. And once again, numbers were low. That’s ok Billy, that’s ok…
Later that afternoon, I took my leftover chocolate, a box of my grandmothers laxatives (Chocolate Ex-Lax, extra strength), and some candy molds up to my darkened bedroom.
I spent hours up there melting laxatives and chocolate bunnies together in my Easy Bake oven while taking hits off my scratch-n-sniff stickers and laughing maniacally.
After the “candy” hardened, I re-wrapped it and dumped everything in the outside trashcan. Then I sat by my window drinking orange Shasta and waiting for Billy to be his own undoing. Mwahahaha!
Let’s just say that the following year Billy no longer had the consumers’ trust (or their parents’), my candy sales were back up, and I was able to purchase my first Cabbage Patch Kid! *Can you believe I had to camp out all night in a Boscov’s parking lot to get that damn Andrea? Now you can’t give them away.
WSFS, if anything can be learned from sharing my story, I hope it’s this- have faith in your dreams, show resilience when faced with adversity, and most importantly practice quiet patience…because a great revenge plan can take up to a year or more to execute.
Sincerely,
Kim S
www.oneclassymotha.com
P.S. You’re free to include this letter as part of your corporate training program.
Like me? Love me? Feel “Meh”? I’ll take that too.
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PS- after you click the banner it’ll seem like nothing happened but trust me, you voted! and I’ll love you a little bit more…but not more than my wine. sorry.
