I collect mugs. Been doing it for years. Most have a story to tell. Places I’ve been, people I’ve loved. Not this mug. And that’s what makes it special.
Here is how I became the owner of my only Christmas mug.
Years ago, I was asked to take a temporary job to help out a business owner. A woman. With the Holidays around the corner and her best employee quitting, she needed help. A common friend called and convinced me to take the position. We agreed it would be temporary as I still had my regular job and wasn’t really looking for anything remotely associated with fashion. My career in fashion was what I like to call part of a past life.
I took the part time job for three months. From day one I understood why the woman lost her best employee. She was a bona fide witch, even without the broom or the hat.
I was hired as a private contractor (she didn’t want to pay taxes), however, she tried to control every minute of my time to the point I was neglecting my real job as she wouldn’t allow me to take phone calls, period. And then there were the fights. Between her and her mother, between her and unlucky customers. It got so bad, I felt embarrassed to even be there. But hey, I’d given my word, so I persisted. I counted the days until the three months commitment would be over. I kept telling myself it was temporary. I pitied the full time employees and I mostly pitied her mother.
The two of them got into a big fight. They spoke a language I didn’t understand, later I was told they were Armenians. I pretended not to hear all their yelling until a pair of scissors flew by my head, barely missing me. After that I called in sick. Every day. The last day of my so-called employment I went by to retrieve my belongings. I arrived at opening time, neither her nor her mother were there. One of the unfortunate employees let me in, I grabbed my stuff and was gone before the clock struck nine.
I drove home and unpacked my small briefcase and that’s when I found the Christmas Mug. Supposedly it was a gift for the employees from ‘management’. I still laugh at that pompous word.
Hey, Witches don’t need management, they have brooms and hats and…flying scissors.
Anyway, for reasons I can’t explain, I just love the mug. It makes me feel all warm and cozy, even if I only use it around Christmas.
The crazy woman calls me every time one of the employees quit and yes, that means very often. I just tell her to go fly a …kite.
My wish to you, readers and friends, is that no matter the circumstances, you all find you Christmas mug.
Buone feste and happy 2016.
P.S. Remember, the best gift you can give an author is a review.