As I read the Nightly Navel Gazin' Report™ last night, I thought to myself that while a refrigerator magnet may not seem like much of a gift, I confess that I have been disappointed at times with tokens of appreciation (or the lack thereof).
One of the biggest recent disappointments was my retirement reception. In the twenty-seven and a half years that I worked for the State, I was on many planning committees for retiring employees, many whom had neither tenure or accomplishments even close to mine. In planning these events, we always took care to make them memorable for the employee, taking into consideration their personalities, their likes and dislikes, and their convenience.
However, when I retired, my "party" was at a location eighty-five miles from where I lived, and the event was shared with four other retirees from other towns much closer to the site of the event. I had never even heard the names of any of them. On the other hand, since I had often been on planning committees for regional meetings and had participated in the programs, nearly everyone knew me. Yet some of those who knew me best, including some family members, were unable to make the long trip to the reception. Thus not only was I not acquainted with the others who shared the reception, but I was also greeted by people whose names I did not know. In addition, the money collected for the reception was split five ways. While most honorees at parties that I had helped to plan received a lovely corsage, very nice gifts (usually along with a money tree) I received a cheap watch which has already quit running, and a corsage made out of a one-dollar bill and some cheap lace, probably from a Dollar Store.
However, I was just about as excited when I received a vacuum cleaner from my now ex-husband for our first anniversary (after which he asked what I was going to cook for supper). Or when, after ten years of never sending me flowers, he finally sent an arrangement to my office ... of artificial flowers.
Posted by Susan R at February 4, 2005 08:07 AM