Story 616: I Was Dreaming of a White Christmas… But Not Anymore

             December 24, 20XX 

Dear Santa, 

I would like to start this letter with an expression of gratitude, which I am certain is so rarely received on your end.  I can guarantee that 99.9999999%, if not 100%, of your one-way correspondence consists of “I want”, “I need”, “I really want”, and “GIMME!”, with not one piece of mail dated December 26 that is a thank-you note.  Well, let me be possibly the first – possibly the only – to write to you saying:

Thank you, dear Santa Claus, for all the bounty you have bestowed upon me over the years.  I deeply appreciate all the efforts of you, Mrs. Claus, the elves, the reindeer, and everyone else on your staff each and every year to please the materialist desires of all the children of the world, even if they are on the Naughty List (let’s face it, who has ever really gotten only coal as a present?  That’s what I thought).  Your hard work, and all the pleasure it brings, does not go unnoticed.

I especially appreciate the granting of my biggest request of all time that you finally granted last year: after so many unseasonably warm Christmases full of rain and mud, last year I wrote to you with all my heart asking for just one more true, magical, wondrous White Christmas.  And by golly, you delivered!  I looked out my window the morning of December 25 and the world was covered in a blanket of the good stuff, making everything look soft, wholesome, and beautiful.  It was glorious, and I will be eternally grateful to you for granting that request and creating a truly special day filled with the loveliness that only a winter wonderland can bring.

OK, now onto the meat of this criticism sandwich:

I realize that you are used to permanent winter up where you reside – I am guessing that you actually prefer it that way – but in the latitude where I reside, all the living creatures here have only ever lived in a climate with, you know, seasons.  It is possible that you may not be aware of this, but that amazing White Christmas you gifted last year never stopped.  As in, NEVER.  STOPPED.  We are now on Day 365 of continuous snowfall, with no end in sight due to the apparently self-perpetuating cloud formations that hover over us like a prophecy of doom fulfilled.  There was no spring, no summer, and no autumn; just one long, unending winter.   At first everyone laughed about it as January rolled into February, saying we finally got a real winter again after years of mush so of course we are never satisfied when it commits to the role, but then March rolled into April, and when Mother’s Day came around everyone knew we had a problem.  Thank goodness the effect was localized to our town and we never were cut off from outside deliveries of food and other necessities, but the animals who had migrated from force of habit still have not come back, and those who usually stick it out packed up and left in June, along with a third of the town’s human population.  And sure, there is sledding, and snowball fights, and occasional “snow days” that are rendered meaningless by technology for working or attending school remotely, but it all wears a bit then when you are falling on the icy sidewalk for the thirtieth time or watching yet another 10-car pile-up due to frozen potholes or the plows breaking down trying to keep up with the continual accumulation.  There are committees now that regularly patrol the streets knocking snow off of trees and checking homes’ and businesses’ rooftops so that the gradually increasing weight of all those pretty little frozen pieces of water do not crush everything underneath them.  I shovel a few inches outside my window at the end of every day just so I can look through it the following morning and confirm that the world out there still exists, and nearly everyone’s water pipers burst at least twice before a notice went out to wrap them all up and keep a hairdryer on standby.  The power surprisingly has mostly managed to stay on – there was one weekend we now refer to as “The Fourth of July Freeze-Out”, but otherwise electricity has been consistent.  Still, it is no fun trick-or-treating with snowshoes and ski poles – what kind of ballet dancer or astronaut is that supposed to be? – and all the ice cream parlors went out of business before we reached August in our Year Without a Summer.  At Thanksgiving, everyone said they were thankful that their furnaces still worked, and that was it.

So, I write to you again, dear Santa Claus, to please flip the switch on the never-ending snowfall, and bring back the rain – or, better yet, move along the permanent clouds for at least three months so that everything can dry out, and then bring back the rain in time for spring, and for at least something to grow this year.  We will even take a gentle tornado at this point, if only it would suck up all the snow that, at its current untouched height, has now surpassed the water tower.

I thank you again for last year’s thoughtful gift and humbly ask for this one last present, and I promise that I will never write to you asking for anything else for the rest of my life.

Well, except for maybe peace on Earth and goodwill toward all, but I know that is a bit of a stretch.

                                                                         With Shivering Affection, 

                                                                         Snowed-In Sandy, Age 10

Story 407: How to Serve a Criticism Sandwich

 (In an office)

Manager: (Enters with Employee and gestures at a chair) Have a seat.  (Sits behind the desk as Employee sits at the other side) So, for your annual performance review, Corporate instructed us to try something different.  (Reaches into a drawer and places a plate with a large sandwich on it in front of Employee) Here.

Employee: …They’re finally giving us free lunches?

Manager: Ahahahahaha – !  No, that’s a Criticism Sandwich.  It’s your performance review.

Employee: I don’t understand – am I supposed to eat this?

Manager: Course not; just read what it says.

Employee: (Gingerly takes the sandwich and reads the top slice of bread) “Always clocks in and out on time.”

Manager: You don’t know what a relief that is, to me and to Payroll.  Much appreciated.

Employee: Thanks.

Manager: (Nods at the sandwich) Go on.

Employee: Oh.  (Takes off the top slice and looks at the meat of the sandwich) “Needs to improve time management – tends to procrastinate on projects.”  (Winces)

Manager: Yeah, don’t appreciate that.

Employee: (Lifts off a slice of meat and continues) “Needs to improve on working in groups.”  (Looks up at Manager) I’m the only other one in our department!

Manager: Exactly.

Employee: (Takes off another slice) “Tends to allow personal life to interfere with work.”  (Looks up at Manager) It was one time!

Manager: You say that every time.  No one on the floor cares when your household appliances break down – we all manage to deal with those without involving the whole world.

Employee: I’m sorry, but it’s very disruptive when it happens!

Manager: And so are you.  Continue.

Employee: (Reaches the bottom slice of bread) “Brightens everyone’s day here.” Gee, thanks!

Manager: Yeah, you’re a real ray of sunshine – no one’s getting raises this year.

Employee: Oh.  Can I eat the sandwich then?

Manager: I wouldn’t.

(At a writing group)

Writer 1: (Reading from latest draft of life’s work to the circle) “ – and as the cannon fire rained down upon the battalion, each and every one of those soldiers knew there would be at least one sentence in a military history monograph dedicated to that very last thought.”  (Looks up at the rest of the group, extremely emotional) “And there was.”  (Takes in the silent stares) …The End.

(Group Leader starts the others in polite clapping)

Group Leader: All right everyone, head on over to the sideboard and craft your Criticism Sandwiches for this latest piece!  (The members slowly trudge over to that table where supplies are spread out) Five minutes this time!  (Mutters) Let’s not be here all night.

Writer 1: What?

Group Leader: What?

(Five minutes later)

Group Leader: All righty!  Who wants to serve their sandwich first?

(The usual delay when no one wants to volunteer; Writer 2 then stands, quickly walks across the circle, and abruptly holds out the sandwich to Writer 1)

Writer 2: Here.  Nothing personal.  (Sits back down)

Writer 1: Of course it’s personal!  I wrote it!

Group Leader: Just accept the sandwich!  (Smiles very broadly) We’re all here to learn.  (Everyone else nods)

Writer 1: (Gingerly looks at the top slice of bread and reads) “Tackling this subject matter was very brave of you” – oh, no!

Group Leader: (Cracks a whip in the air) Keep going!

Writer 2: (Lifts off the bread and reads the top slice of meat) “Too much melodrama” – (Lifts a slice) “Constantly shifting POV gave me mental whiplash” – (Lifts a slice) “For a supposedly nonfiction work, this had an awful lot of creative writing on what you assume real-life people were thinking” – where, exactly, hm?!

Writer 2: That last bit you read today was a prime example.

Group Leader: (Cracks whip again) Continue!

Writer 1: (Lifts a slice) “Could’ve used more graphs and charts” – ?!  I already have over 300!

Writer 2: Now, that there’s a writing technique called “verbal irony,” AKA “sarcasm.”  (Writer 1’s jaw drops)  I see though that it wasn’t conveyed too well in text – that’s one of my flaws that you all are helping me work on here.  (The other group members start another round of polite clapping)

Writer 1: (Grinds teeth loudly at Writer 2)

Group Leader: (Looking at watch) Yes-yes-lovely – have you reached the bottom of the sandwich yet?

Writer 1: I will now.  (Removes a few more slices of meat and reads the bottom slice of bread) “Overall, pretty funny.”  (Looks up at Writer 2) It’s a serious historical tome!

Writer 2: Whoops.

Group Leader: (To Writer 1) OK!  So what’s your takeaway from all this?

Writer 1: (Shakes the sandwich at Group Leader) Apparently, if I go by this, I need to rewrite the whole thing!

Group Leader: But, you also see that you were both brave and funny in your first of many, many drafts!

Writer 1: It’s not supposed to be funny!

Writer 2: Too bad – got a few chuckles outta me.

Group Leader: All right, who’s next to serve their sandwich?

Writer 1: What if I don’t want any more tonight?

Group Leader: Well, you’ll be cheating yourself out of some desperately needed feedback, but we all have the option to disregard any criticism here.

Writer 3: Aw shucks, I’d made mine a triple-decker!

 (In a café)

Partner 1: (After the couple has picked up their coffees and sat at a table) So, I’ve been thinking: we’ve been together for a few years, and I really like you a lot –

Partner 2: Oh good, I’d hoped you might.

Partner 1: – and I want to be with you for a long time; probably not forever, but a long time nonetheless.

Partner 2: Yeah: forever, ugh!  Unspecific “long time” is much better.

Partner 1: Soooo, I got you something.  (Reaches into a bag)

Partner 2: If it’s a ring, it undercuts your previous statement.

Partner 1: Oh no, nothing like that.  (Places a sandwich on a napkin in front of Partner 2)

Partner 2: Uhhh, thanks, but we’re going out to diner later and I don’t want to fill up.

Partner 1: It’s not for eating, it’s –

Barista: (Passing by while cleaning tables) Can’t have outside food here.

Partner 1: Oh no, it’s just a Criticism Sandwich.

Partner 2: (Gasps and widens eyes) It starts!

Barista: Ah.  Good luck with that.  (Moves along)

Partner 2: (Staring alternately at Partner 1 and the sandwich) Wha – I – how – I thought everything was going so well!

Partner 1: It is, but there’re always opportunities for improvement.  (Nods at the sandwich) Go ahead.

Partner 2: (Gulps, then reads the top slice of bread) “I love you with all of my heart.”  Aw, hon!

Partner 1: (Wipes away a small tear) Keep going, sweetie.

Partner 2: (Lifts off the bread and reads the top slice of vegetable) “You really need to clean up after yourself more.”  Is this about the laundry I left on the floor the other day?

Partner 1: It’s about the laundry you leave on the floor every day, yes – keep going.

Partner 2: (Lifts up the vegetable and reads a slice of meat) “You tend to ‘forget’ when it’s your turn to make dinner” – but “forget” is in quotes?

Partner 1: That was intentional – continue.

Partner 2: (Lifts up slice of meat) “That shade of hair dye doesn’t flatter you at all.”  (Looks up with a cocked eyebrow) Seriously?

Partner 1: All right, that one’s petty – skip to the next.

Partner 2: (Reaches the bottom slice of bread) “You are such a giving person and I’m lucky to have you in my life” – awwwwwwwww, honnnnnnnn!!!!!

Partner 1: (More tears threaten to spill) And I mean every word of that whole thing!

(They hold hands lovingly across the table)

Partner 2: You know, I’m now going to have to serve you a ginormous Criticism Sandwich of my own –

Partner 1: BRING IT ON, BABY!