I was a manager of an overnight shipping company in the 70s – a new concept at the time. Holiday bonuses were given at the “party” – there was the usual crappy buffet and no-host bar. Afterwards I was talking to my staff and learned they were given $10 gift certificates at a local grocery (I was given a hefty cash bonus). I thought this unfair, cashed the bonus and split it among my staff. Word about this got to upper management and they were ready to have my hide nailed to the shipping dock door. Dunno why. I pointed out that it was *my* money (they gave it to me) and I could dispose of it in any way I wanted to and if they didn’t like it there was this new outfit in town called the ACLU that would just LOVE to hear this story. They backed down, but within six months I was fired because our new area manager screwed up his job and blamed it on me – I was not politically connected like he was.

Things worked out, though. He was in the country illegally, having been on the wrong side of a military coup in Argentina and left that country one step ahead of a posse with a substantial amount of the new government’s funds in the form of bearer bonds and other securities. Couple of phone calls to the Argentinian Embassy in L.A. made it easy for them to find him and, son of gun, the US had an extradition treaty with Argentina. Bye bye.

Other ugly holiday party – I worked for a regional airline, Reno Air, which was bought out by American Airlines in 1999/2000. When AA took over they told us everybody at Reno Air would have jobs with AA. The day of the big shebang holiday party the Reno Air VP Ops called me into her office and told me that AA did not have an IT department and none of my staff would be offered jobs because there weren’t any – AA’s IT dept. consisted of half a dozen middle-level bureaucrats whose jobs consisted of outsourcing the tech work. It was my job to go tell 17 people that there was no room at the inn and we’d be getting severance packages and accumulated vacation time and thank you very much for your service.

It was also earlier that same day that I’d told my wife that I couldn’t handle her constant and blatant infidelities and that she had to find someplace else to live and someone else’s money to spend and here’s the name of my divorce attorney.

Not the best day of my life…

Setting: Chicago, 1975

I was in the navy at the time and was stationed at the Great Lakes Training Center as an instructor. A couple of friends and I decided to head into the Windy City for the weekend as it would be our last chance to do so. We were all heading out on or about the 20th for other places. We traveled by train and headed straight for the USO where we would start our great adventure.

The staff members told us of a Christmas party that they would be attending and asked us to come along. It was at an orphanage and did not really interest us but the staff members (did I mention they were very pretty ladies of our own age) talked us into it. (You guys know what happens when looonnnnng eyelashes are batted your way.) We finally arrived and we went into the gym where the party was being held.

Oh yea, by the way, we are setting up for the party too.

The party started about 2 hours later when the Nuns brought in the children and they all ran up to the 6 of us. The kids ranged in age of 3 to 9. Now we find out from talking with the Nuns that this is not a orphanage but a home for children that are terminal and who have been left in the Sisters care. The Sisters said that all the children at the party would not live to see another.
A 5 year old girl by the name Mary Grace latched on to me and she stole my heart. She was a shy, bright eyed, curly blonde who could melt the ice off the coldest heart with just a look. We spent 2 hours together, mostly with her on my lap or in my arms. When she and here fellow party goers left I felt I was leaving my own child behind. I was in tears. I did not want to let go.

I asked one of the sisters to notify me when Mary Grace died and I left notes on how to do so. I left what I could behind to get her what she needed and I walked out the door. I was in California at the end of January when I received the call relayed by my parents. I cried for an hour thinking on how that beautiful child had to face death alone.

And now I’m in tears again.

An associate, who shall only be called Pancake Sue, is often the subject of our conversation when it comes to pot-lucking. She oftentimes brings pancakes because she’s so cheap. Let’s face it, no one’s eatin’ pancakes for an office potluck at 1:30. Sick.

At any rate, I didn’t buy her anything because she knew how I felt about her pancake shennanigans. It was no secret. So I was baffled, nay, dumbfounded, when she proudly handed me the card she made me that she printed off her computer. When I opened it, I realized that she had indeed given me a Christmas gift…a donation made in my name. To her coven.

If anyone is familiar with Seinfeld, this will smack of when George gave everyone a donation to the Human Fund in their name. Pancake Sue ran the coven, and took a cut off the top for “administrative fees”. So, she basically paid herself, and said, “Thank You” to me. Raise your syrup bottles high this Christmas for Pancake Sue…true story.