Yesterday was a funny day at work.
I think I was just glad it was Friday. I was doing everything too quickly: responding to emails like lightning and then wondering what I’d written; hurrying down the hallway and then slipping (only slightly!) and trying to pass it off like nothing happened; cutting open the stack of boxes from W.B. Mason, throwing scissors around like a six-year-old and slicing a perfect “v” into the ring finger of my right hand.
(I then had to find a bandaid and somehow open it and put it on without using that finger. It’s amazing I can still type as efficiently as I do…)
And the afternoon was topped with something we never would’ve expected.
In the kitchen, sitting on the counter, was a huge heated box filled with fifty Chick-fil-A sandwiches.
Apparently, a guy from Chick-fil-A stopped in and wanted to talk to us about doing a fundraiser. My first thought was: How would this go down? Would we sell Chick-fil-A at sports games? Would we earn points for every time we bought a sandwich? I want details, man.
And before he left, he put a box of hot chicken sandwiches in the kitchen and said, “Help yourself,” as he vanished in his little Chick-fil-A sedan.
An email was sent out immediately to all the staff and faculty, and I sat at the desk, watching as little groups of excited teachers flocked by. Every single one of them looked through the door at me, their eyes a little brighter, their steps a little lighter, and hardly anyone believing our luck.
(Well, ladies, your friends were delicious. I’d keep laying, if I were you.)