In Which I Apply My $200,000 English Degree to Get Free Ice Cream
I like to consider myself the kind of person who isn't easily stressed, but the fact of the matter is that as someone who doesn't sleep very often, can't find it within herself to tell anyone no ever, is in a super weird job field with a strange amount of intense on the line, and all-to-readily takes on all of the emotions of others, including strangers she meets in elevators, I'm actually a stress monster more often than I'm a cool and collected cucumber.
While I am, however, relatively adept at internalizing this madness and keeping my crazy well and hidden from the outside world, at certain points the stars align and the overwork/lack of sleep/hormonal imbalance (*cough*)/context clues all work in perfect harmony to bring me to the point that an ill-timed gust of wind will set me weeping in the middle of the sidewalk or, occasionally, react very strongly to life situations that under no circumstances warrant any kind of strong reaction whatsoever.
In the past two weeks I've been riding the wave of one such perfect storm, and in the midst of the madness I got an email from a Seattle favorite informing me that they were hosting an ice cream flavor tasting and would I like to attend? Don't mind if I do, I thought, this will be the perfect exeunt to the hellish mania that has been my reality as of late! I went to nab tickets only to find that the rest of Seattle had the same idea, and it was already sold out.
I broke.
At the time of this discovery, I was at a work dinner in a fancy steakhouse and, feeling the irrational wave of emotion threatening to turn me into a table flipping monster, I politely excused myself to go and sit on a bench outside and furiously channel all my stress into penning an email that would result in two extra tickets to the event that had suddenly become my sole reason for living.
As an English Major, people will often inform you that you completely wasted your college degree on an irrelevant and worthless field of study. Well. I'm here to inform the skeptics of the world that, in fact, my nearly $200,000 college degree has already paid me dividends, not because it's completely honed my ability to quickly analyze and synthesize crazy amounts of information at the drop of the hat, not because my communication skills far and away overshadow those of my DJ Khaled-quoting peers (#majorkey), not because I can crank out a forty-page doc for our VP in two hours flat, no--my English major is worth every dollar, sleepless night poring over Shakespeare, and over-wrought Sylvia Plath dissertation I invested because it nabbed me two tickets to Molly Moon's Spring Tasting and let my inner stress monster roar.
I'm sharing the email here for the enjoyment of the world and to let everyone know why on March 20th there will likely be two men in hospital uniforms waiting for me at Molly Moon, ready to shove Xanax down my throat and cart me away to a mental institution. Don't worry mom, I'll find a way to talk myself out of it.
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Subject: SOS! Will Trade My Right Arm and/or Firstborn Child to Try Your Spring Flavors
Dear Ice Cream Angels at Molly Moon,
I got a Very Exciting Email from y'all today informing me that you are hosting a Spring Flavor Tasting at your headquarters on March 20! Naturally, as this is possibly the most exciting email I've received in the last month (since TurboTax is really becoming a dark cloud in my life with their daily nagging to Hurry Now and File My Very Complicated Taxes Because We See You Made A Very Complicated Cross-Country Move and Very Complicated Job Change this Year and Need to Get a Head Start on Your Very Complicated Taxes We'll Discount You Five Whole Dollars Act Soon!), I immediately whooped with happiness and went to nab two tickets, only to find *gasp!* HORROR OF HORRORS the event was already sold out and unavailable!
Molly Moon Ice Cream Angels, I do not exaggerate when I tell you that while no, I am not a daily frequenter of your ice cream goodness and, no, I haven't been around from the very beginning to watch your success grow (as you can see from my TurboTax debacle, I only moved to Seattle this year), I am, in fact, one of your biggest fans-who-is-from-Chicago-and-wasnt-planning-to-move-and-for-whom-your-ice-cream-really-helped-emotionally-stabilize-after-said-move-when-she-was-scared-and-lonely-in-a-foreign-land-and-dairy-byproducts-were-her-only-friends-and-saving-grace. I wept the first time I tried your Stumptown Coffee. I squealed in delight the first time Arnold Palmer Sorbet graced my palate.
I absolutely adore you and I absolutely adore your ice cream and I will literally do anything short of illicit activities for two tickets to celebrate your ice cream prowess and spring flavor launch. Is there ANY way I could be updated if people cancel? Or if you have extra Ice Cream Angel tickets in your back pocket for desperate fans? Or if you accept bribes in the form of petty cash or undying love and affection?
Most sincerely,
Kate