CROSSING THE LINE

So, I've kept to my promise and since the writer's strike commenced (a little biz lingo there, haha) I have not purchased anything from the "company store" - food or otherwise. It's my very small show of support for my writer friends whose brethren have been picketing daily outside my place of work. However...

The daily e-mail bulletin announced a toy drive for underprivileged children. Employees who wished to participate in the humanitarian effort needed to come onto the lot at lunchtime and pick a handmade ornament from the Xmas tree on Main Street. On the ornaments were tags with the names and ages of the kids participating and a short list of toys they'd like. So me and my fellow coworkers decided we'd venture out during lunch hour and grab an ornament.... but we faced crossing the dreaded picket line. We passed through the gate with relative ease and smiled supportively at the striters. It was when we were leaving the gates that we were approached:

Writer: What's the special at the grill today?

Me: Uh, we didn't eat at the grill.

Co-worker: We came for charity.

Co-Worker #2 (pulls out the paper ornament): See?

Me: We went to volunteer for a toy drive for underprivileged kids. We didn't buy anything.

Writer (embarrassed): Oh... uh... I'm a writer for Jeopardy and I... sorry. Um, that's nice of you.

Me: Awkward Moments for 200 please, Alex.

Writer:...


Thank God the toy drop-off bin is in my building.