Love me an Almond Joy

Last week, a representative from a printing supply company called me, asking for the legal assistant that had been here five years ago. The representative said that we had done business with them then, and asked if she could stop buy with a price list. Oh, and she would bring candy, she always brings candy.

I said sure, fine, okay, dropping off a price list isn’t going to take anything from my day, and will even offer an opportunity for me to get up out of my chair, which I usually am glued to unless I have to take the tremendous sojourn to the bathroom or the kitchen, or maybe the other printer in the filing room. I admired her dedication, as usually I hang up on anybody offering anything, but I was in the mood to let her make the walk. She said she would call back on Tuesday before she dropped by. I said sure.

So this morning I receive a call from the representative from the printing supply company that we used five years ago, and she asked if she could still drop by. I say sure, fine, okay, no I had not been to lunch yet (I eat at my desk), and she can come by whenever. She said great, she’d bring candy.

So she calls up a few hours later from outside the office. To be clear, our office is a giant open paddock, fenced in by two glass doors that are locked with a system similar to the ones in our dorms. We need a key card to get in and out of our penned-in area every time we leave to pee. The rest of the floor is surrounded on the edges by windowed offices, and secretarial work cubes outline the conference rooms in the middle. So I have to answer the phone when someone is outside, get up out of my cube, and walk around the corner to the front reception area to let her in.

She is young, of course, and asks to sit down. The first thing she does is hand me a big white envelope bulging at the sides, bulky and awkward. She apologizes if I was on candy overload. Standing before her I neglect to mention that not only am I too young to go trick-or-treating with my children, or am I young enough to enjoy a good all-out Halloween bash, but I also habitually do not buy candy. So we sit down and she talks quickly, offering services like “we’re just down the street” and “we keep a lot of HP supplies in stock” and “we always bring candy”. Apparently, this candy is a big deal.

The representative thanked me, and I thanked her, and she left and I went back to my desk. Inside the envelope was a whole bunch of what looked like somebody’s leftover Halloween bowl, apparently a standard mix of Fun Size candy bars. Sitting it down on my desk I think about how the entire morning I had spent reading articles about how sugar is bad, and we need to be more mindful. I read articles about meditation and running and spiritual aspects of relationships and how death is a benefit to life, etc. But still, this giant bag of candy is a huge draw. I don’t think this company has much of what we need, but I am sure I will try to call them for supplies. No, not for the big karma-plus and environmentally friendly aspect of using a small, local supplier, but for the fact that the representative took the time to walk down the street and hand me a giant bag of Halloween candy. I do love me an Almond Joy.