Today’s story from Dale is a sequel to an earlier piece, Revenge Cup, which posted last July 24. Click on the link if you would like to reread that story.

How to Make the Corporate Black List

By Dale Angel

It’s such a big organization. Thirty-eight thousand franchises. I never expected a personal reply. I wrote to share a good experience built on a bad one.  The Beings there took issue with a little humor.

I offended them. They misread my short note and assumed I had used their coffee pot for thirty-eight years. (Their count; not mine)

An executive with a quick draw is going to right a wrong? I won’t use her name because she probably has enough problems trying to crack the glass ceiling.

They have a computer Web Site called ‘Feedback’. I used it. I wrote to commend the gracious morning manager, who serves me coffee in my revenge cup. He knows its history.

My falling from grace may have been when I used the name of my cup. I thanked them, told them I had used their cafe for many years as a local meeting place, and enjoyed their food products.

They fired back to stop my free coffee, which they assumed I had been getting for thirty-eight years. Free.  

Here’s what happened…

While de-cluttering, I found the cup in my cupboard where things multiply. I pulled it out to try for the promised free coffee. I remembered. Be careful about your memory. It can be off, and you certainly don’t want a misunderstanding with corporate. It was a couple of free cups of coffee, not thirty-eight years of free coffee! I used the incidents to write my story about my revenge cup.

I tried to defend the misinformation but found I can no longer use their advertised feedback site.  Have I been placed on terrorist list?   It took away the sunshine from my office meeting place and coffee lost its flavor.  The owner of the local establishment went to my defense.

After all, he poured my free coffee

I would recommend executives take off the corporate mantle and replace it with personal interest and humor. The first bad experience and this second one tells me to put away my pencil…but the thought of a pencil in my hand overcomes sensibleness.

The next sequel could be entitled ‘Old Woman with Cane Climbs Corporate Ladder and Gets on the Black List.’ Or ‘Terrorist List.’ That’s what Homeland Security calls it.

PS: A day later, my email sprouts a lovely note written in corporate-ese ‘sort of sorry,  admitting nothing’ form letter. And the executive referred to above owns the glass ceiling.

I may take up knitting.

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Unresolved Issues

By Dale Angel

 It says in my book that for one to be happy, and emotionally and mentally stable, you must tend to your unresolved issues. It advises me to empty out the clutter that is in the far corners of my person and bring them out in the open. It helps all to come to peace.

I’m therefore attending to my economic issues beginning with the sons and daughters who sit at my table.

I can branch out from there.

Papers were sent from school warning of an epidemic outbreak of ringworm of the scalp. There were irregular patches all over your head. The doctor was confused but prescribed the ringworm medicine, anyway. I followed the instructions with confidence. You got worse. The next day your eyebrows and neck area were hair free. Passing the bathroom door, I watched as you stood on a chair and used your father’s razor dragging it around your ears. I want my money back for the cost of the medicine.

And You. Remember the time when that beautiful young girl followed you back to our seats at the stadium? You were addled and useless the rest of the trip. The mailbox was weakened with letters all winter.  I gave you money for stamps.  I told you to be careful what you put in those letters. The next spring you came running across the football field and swung under the seats and said “She’s here! She’s here! She’s big as a Mack truck’’ I watched as she clung to her mother and cried “He’s a little twerp!” You were a late bloomer; nevertheless, that’s money you still owe me. It was your bad investment.

Probably You won’t remember the time the ironing board was propped against the closet and someone had hung their rain hat on it. You were paralyzed all night that someone was there. You finally got the courage to fling the radio at it. It was almost new.  I won’t charge interest, but you owe me. That radio is a collectors dream today.  Remember…there was also the time you got to sleep on the top bunk and look out at the stars after the roof fire.

I haven’t forgotten that bill for Your sister’s soda bottles you took in retaliation when she hid your drum sticks. The neighbor lady took the bottles in down payment for those drums from her kids. I had to pay off your debt to your sister to keep the peace. There was no peace after those drums moved in. The truth is, I admired her courage for hiding them. I’m not charging for the aspirins. This account is past due.

I didn’t take it personally when I bragged about my kids and my neighbor bet me she knew something I didn’t. The neighbors that moved gave you all those junky parts that you dragged home. I felt confident. I knew where my kids were, in the garage. When I heard that motor start and watched as those assorted parts went whizzing out of the driveway in the form of a motorcycle of sorts I almost fainted. I lost all my strength as you rolled down the street with your hair flying in the wind. I had to pay my bet. I never charged for the valium. I needed them for when it got worse and you traded up for a car. This bill is past due.

It comforted me to put up signs in the bathroom for You to read every day. My favorite was “Foolish Pleasure is tied up in the heart of a boy.’’ I didn’t pay attention to the bill for school shop class supplies. When that hydroplane came skimming across the lake and swung around with “Foolish Pleasure” written in large letters across the back, I dropped the knife. The cut needed stitches. Kindly remit some funds to my purse.

It still disturbs me how unfair it was of you all ganging up on me when I removed the tubes from the old television and hid them in the baking powder can so I could get some sleep. That television worked anyway. It took years to find out you had removed the tubes from the radio and used them. There’s compensation here somewhere; I just haven’t figured it out yet.

I feel empowered now that I have tended to some of my unresolved issues. I feel mentally and emotionally healthier. I may get to suffer empty nest syndrome, in this lifetime. These are some of my unresolves…

There’s more…

Writers Forum is open to submissions for the blog or the newsletter.

Type of Material and Guidelines for e-newsletter and Website Submission: 1.) Your articles on the art or craft of writing. 2.) Essays on subjects of interest to writers. (200 words can be quoted without permission but with attribution.) 3.) Book or author reviews. 4.) Letters to the Editor or Webmaster. 5.) Information on upcoming events, local or not. 6.) Photos of events. 7.) Advertise your classes or private events. 8.) Short fiction 9.) Poetry

Please submit copy to the editor at writersforumeditor@gmail.com . Electronic submissions only. Microsoft Word format, with the .docx file extension, is preferred but any compatible format is acceptable. The staff reserves the right to perform minor copy editing in the interest of the website’s style and space.