Christmas morning in Chicago was a beautiful spring morning, feeling more like April than December. The sun was shining and lawns were sheepishly blushing green -- the new Currier & Ives.
At the exact point of 9:00 a.m. my door buzzer rang. Who could it be? Christmas guests so early?
"Who is it?"
"FedEx."
"I'll be right down."
I'd made my family swear that they would not buy me any gifts. Five months of unemployment puts some restrictions on budgets and Christmas gifts unfortunately fall victim to such budget consciousness. But perhaps one of my family took pity on me and ignored my edict, sending something to arrive at the exact moment we would normally be sitting down to rip open gifts and bury the living room floor in shredded paper.
"What are you doing working this morning?"
"Right? Sign here."
He handed me a white fibre glass envelope. It was small. I checked the return address.
It was from my old job.
Could I have left something behind that was recently discovered? What on Earth could there be so important that they would pay the exorbitant fees to have something delivered on Christmas morning?
Inside was a small tin filled with almond cookies and a Christmas card, wishing me the very best of the season. From the company that laid me off in July.
What does one say in the thank-you note? "The cookies were delicious. Would have preferred a paycheck."
Or is that ungrateful?
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