I’m not a wrapper.
Or a rapper.
Anyway you spell it…I’m not that.
In fact my gift wrapping efforts have been termed cute, at
best, and distasteful at worst.
What…I thought those Dreidels were
spinning tops…totally appropriate for a priest’s 50th birthday.
It’s not that I don’t try….
Well, yeah…maybe it is…a little.
I mean, come on…you’re just gonna tear it all off anyway.
But in fairness, I only have so many brain cells…maybe less
than most…and I can’t afford to dedicate more than a couple to gift wrapping.
I once worked in a small, family owned, sporting goods store
where one of the services offered was free giftwrapping.
Most of the time I could avoid this task, since not too many
people are looking to have their sneakers and basketballs wrapped.
But at Christmas time, all bets were off.
People wanted everything wrapped….from jock straps to
lacrosse sticks.
Usually I would just shout out…“Need Help here!” and one of unchallenged wrappers would appear to
rescue me.
But when it got really busy, as it did on a holiday
Saturday, I was on my own, no matter how far under the counter I tried to
conceal myself.
Now you would think this is a fairly simple task, this
wrapping…and for the most part it is.
At least laying the box onto the sheet of paper is easy,
provided you judge the spatial relationships correctly and don’t cut off about
a foot of unneeded paper.
And please don’t talk to me about tidy corners.
I never folded a corner the same way twice,
In fact I’m not sure how I even fold them at all.
I’m not making this up either. You can look it up…“Alien Hand Syndrome”…it’s
real…thankfully, because it gets me out of a lot of trouble.
My in-store gift wrapping was so bad that it became chi chi…even legendary in town. People would
flock to the store just to have me wrap their presents…even presents they didn’t
buy there.
My handiwork was referred to as adorable and endearing…genius in
its evocation of the efforts of a holiday hopped up, three year old.
I even got a raise for bringing in new customers…I’m not
making this up.
Well, yeah I am…but I should have gotten a raise, anyway.
But now, my days in retail are behind me, I only have to tackle
wrapping Z’s presents, which is kind of unfair to Z because, of course, she is
a master wrapper…and a rapper.
She can belt out a rap rhyme with the best of hip-hoppers…and
tie a pretty neat curly bow all at the same time.
But, to her credit, she never complains about my wrap jobs…unless
I forget to tape on the bows…or use the dreidel paper.
And don’t get me started on tissue paper…unless you need to
blow your nose.
What the heck am I supposed to do with tissue paper?
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