The Birthday Committee, the Balloon Crisis, and the $25 Hostage Situation

I tried to kill two birds with one stone and somehow ended up eating a Frosty inside Wendy’s at 8:30 p.m.

Readers, why the universe looks at my life and decides I should be its longest running joke is beyond me. At some point, you would think it would grow tired of turning my existence into a nearly 40 year sitcom. Surely there are other people available. Surely someone else can be assigned the unnecessarily complicated errands and minor inconveniences that slowly evolve into full-length feature films.

But no.

The universe renewed me for another season.

To understand the absurdity of what I am about to tell you, we must travel all the way back to Tuesday, when I went to Floyd’s to pick up my pulled chicken. I chose Floyd’s because I also needed to buy my boss a gift card for his birthday on Thursday. He likes Floyd’s, I needed dinner, and I thought I could kill two birds with one stone.

Efficient. Responsible. Almost adult-like.

Except Floyd’s apparently does not sell gift cards at the moment. There went that beautiful little plan, immediately thrown into the dumpster with every other attempt I have ever made at being prepared.

So where else does the boss like to eat?

Wendy’s.

Should I have stopped at Wendy’s on Tuesday while I was already out and gotten the gift card then? Yes. Absolutely. The thought crossed my mind. A sensible voice inside my head said, “Sarah, stop now. Get it over with. You will be prepared for Thursday.”

Naturally, I ignored her.

Why would I make my life easy when I could leave the task for Wednesday night and give the universe another opportunity to humble me?

Now, I need to explain something about my place of employment. They take birthdays VERY seriously. I learned this during my first year working there. I had not even been there a month when my birthday arrived, and suddenly my office was decorated, there were gifts, everyone took me to lunch, and it became an entire production.

I learned very quickly that birthdays matter. Your office gets decorated. There are streamers. There are balloons. There are plans. There is basically a birthday committee.

Well, her name is Annie. Annie is the committee. And Annie does a wonderful job.

Unfortunately, Annie was out of town this week attending a conference, so she asked me to decorate the boss’s office on Wednesday night. This seemed manageable because the boss and I work different schedules. He is usually gone by 5 p.m., while I work until 6. Annie also told me that he does not like a lot of fanfare, so I only needed to hang a few streamers, put up a couple of balloons, and call it a night.

Okay!

I can do this!

Famous last words spoken by a woman who should know better by now.

There I was at 5:45 p.m. The boss was still there. Fine. No problem. He would leave soon.

Then it was 6:10. Still there.

At 6:15, I began weighing my options. I could continue sitting there suspiciously after my shift ended and invent some elaborate excuse for why I was still in the building. Unfortunately, I am terrible at lying, and any story I created would probably contain too many details, several unnecessary side plots, and at least one character who did not exist.

My other option was to admit defeat, go home, wake up when my alarm actually goes off at 3:50 a.m. instead of snoozing until 4:30, and arrive early the next morning to decorate his office.

Obviously, neither option was appealing.

I was about to pack everything up and accept my tragic 3:50 a.m. fate when, at 6:20 p.m., he finally left.

VICTORY.

I had won.

Or so I thought.

Readers, Annie normally handles the decorations. Not me.

I can make beautiful digital art. Give me a computer, and I can create graphics, invitations, logos, social media campaigns, and entire visual identities. Digital art is my thing.

Physical crafts, however, are where my talents go to die. I once bought a Cricut because I convinced myself I was going to become one of those crafty women who makes personalized tumblers, matching T-shirts, and decorative wooden signs for every holiday.

That was clearly an identity crisis.

Still, this was only some streamers and balloons. How difficult could it possibly be? Readers, have we learned nothing?

Long story short, thank God Wendy was also working late because I required assistance blowing up a balloon.

Yes. A balloon.

I had scoliosis surgery when I was a child and apparently have diminished lung capacity, so blowing up balloons is not one of my gifts. This is not information I thought would become relevant during a workplace birthday decorating emergency, but here we are.

With help, several balloons were eventually inflated. The streamers were hung. The decorations were placed. It may have taken me an entire hour, but the office was officially decorated.

Was it Annie-level?

Absolutely not.

Was it Sarah-level?

Yes.

And Sarah-level means it was acceptable, recognizable as birthday decor, and unlikely to violate any workplace safety regulations.

By the time I finished, it was around 7:15 p.m., and I still needed to stop at Wendy’s to purchase the gift card I had failed to buy the night before.

Fine.

Easy.

I was already out late, so I decided I might as well order Wendy’s for dinner. I even ordered through the app because they were offering free chicken nuggets, and I thought I could take those for lunch the next day.

Once again, I believed I was killing two birds with one stone. At this point, those birds should have hired attorneys.

I placed my mobile order, drove to Wendy’s, went inside to pick up my food, and asked to purchase a gift card.

Readers. Of course the ONE time I decided to go inside was the ONE time they had just updated all of their registers and everyone was still learning how to use them. Not only that, but they had also completely rearranged their stockroom, which meant no one knew where the gift cards were.

Now, I could have left. Walmart was right there. I could have walked inside, grabbed a Visa gift card, paid for it, and gone home.

But I did not want to stop anywhere else.

I had already committed to Wendy’s. Emotionally, spiritually, and apparently legally.

They told me they would find the gift cards, and I figured it could not possibly take that long.

In hindsight, I should have gone to Walmart.

It took them about 15 minutes to locate one.

Fine. Whatever.

At this point, I was standing there eating the Frosty I had ordered with my dinner. Yes, I ordered a Frosty. Do not judge me. They are delicious, and I had just spent an hour fighting balloons. I deserved frozen dairy.

I still had a 20 minute drive home because Wendy’s is located near the Interstate 40 and Highway 95 turnoff. We do not have one inside the city limits, which means even a simple fast food errand requires a minor expedition.

But I had already waited this long. They had finally found the gift card. Surely the ordeal was almost over.

Except the registers were new, and nobody knew how to activate the card. So then I spent another 10 minutes standing there while several employees tried to solve the technological mystery of selling me $25 worth of hamburger money.

Readers, I swear, if something is going to go wrong, it will wait patiently until I arrive.

Eventually, the gift card was activated. The transaction went through. I collected my food, my surviving nuggets, and what remained of my Frosty, and I was finally released back into society.

I got home at 9 p.m.

I suppose this is why the universe made me a writer. When these ridiculous situations happen, at least I can turn them into content and allow all of you to laugh at me from the safety of your own homes.

So what lesson did we learn?

Next time, buy a simple Visa gift card and call it a day.

Also, never assume a task involving balloons, fast food, or workplace birthdays will be easy.

The universe is listening.

Also one last thing, in case any of my coworkers happen to stumble upon this, first, I am sorry. I promise I am a normal person at least 63% of the time.

Second, I would like to clarify that I am absolutely not complaining. I love my job, I love that birthdays are celebrated with the seriousness and ceremonial planning of a small national holiday, and I genuinely did not mind staying late to decorate or waiting at Wendy’s for the gift card.

The point is simply that nothing in my life is ever just a quick errand. There is always a plot twist, a supporting cast, an unnecessary delay, and at least one moment where I stare into the distance wondering how we got here.

I also turn nearly everything that happens to me into a sarcastic retelling. It is how I process life.

Stay awhile.

You will get used to it.