Disclaimer: This is a tale of fiction. Names, characters, places and businesses (except MagicKitchen.com, obviously), events and incidents are either products of the author’s (very limited) imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The author also apologizes for the unnecessary, unjustified and liberal use of hyphenated words.
There I was, on the 18th with under a week to go until that jolly old elf squeezes his fat arse down the chimney (don’t you hate those kids who ask how Santa delivers presents to houses without chimneys…He comes through the door…duh!). As usual, I was in the home stretch running well behind the pack and was fading fast. My procrastination knew no bounds and I was in serious trouble. What the hell was I going to get my busy neighbor who always seemed to find the time to mow my front lawn or shovel the walk?…which wracked me with guilt…no, not really. And what was I going to get my snowbird in-laws who were going to very temporarily migrate back to Hartford for a few days?
So I did what any self-respecting, Office Space-loving, cubicle-bound, under-paid, even more under-appreciated, over-worked, immensely-bored office worker would do. I conducted some online shopping when I was supposed to be fixing code. And what I discovered froze my heart, as it did at this exact time last year. Apparently, unless I wanted to pay extra (and by “extra” I mean a crap-ton) for expedited shipping, my heart-felt purchases would not reach my recipients or myself in time to place in them in Big Red’s bag. What’s a God-fearing procrastinator to do?
Fortuitously, my next-door cubicle prisoner heard me bang my head off the keyboard in frustration and resignation and did the office chair shuffle into my cubicle where we briefly played office chair bumper cars. After our sophomoric behavior, Kevin informed me and extolled the virtues of a gourmet food delivery service called MagicKitchen.com. We then visited their newly remodeled website and discovered, to our amazement, that they offered gift certificates that, once purchased, could be emailed to either the purchaser (me) or the grateful recipient (guilt-inducing neighbor and octogenarian snowbirds). https://magickitchen.com/gift/gift-certificates.html
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Kevin and I exclaimed in cubicle-mate unison. There was zero pressure to choose the proper meals as I had zero-idea what they would be. I simply purchased a $100 gift certificate for Randy, Liz, little Randy and Paige next door (that should cover a year’s worth of mowing and shoveling, right?) and a $250 one for the in-laws (that should cover 15 years of making me feel inadequate, worthless and not good enough for their daughter, right?). They could then visit MagicKitchen.com and choose from their impressive selection of entrees, sides, soups and desserts, to include dietary restrictions, and then wait, in eager anticipation, for the delicacies to arrive at their door. Heck, MagicKitchen.com would even inform them of the balance remaining on their gift card.
Kevin and I also realized that I could have these gift certificates emailed as late as Christmas Eve and me, wanting to uphold my status as Crown Prince of Procrastinators, went back to playing Candy Crush until quitting time.
So that’s the story of how I discovered the perfect Christmas gift for both last-minute shoppers and foodies alike. Thanks MagicKitchen.com! And as I logged off with happy zeal, I exclaimed, “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good meal…from MagicKitchen.com, that is.”