F*ck Cartridge World

Erica the Admin drops off the mail every day around 2.

On Mondays, the most interesting thing she brings is a Crain’s Chicago Business. The rest of it is junk mail addressed to someone named Clay Frisby (a former employee whose career, here’s hoping, took off much better than his unfortunate name implies.)

Half the time I throw away his mail without even opening it. But sometimes Clay gets something from the Chicago Chamber of Commerce and – even though it’s mostly crap – I feel obligated to open it.

That’s how this mess ended up on my desk.
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“You’ve got something in your hair,” says Scott, one of my favorite co-workers who always stops by to chat when he’s in the office and not on a project at a client site. “Looks like confetti.”

Confetti. They put confetti in the goddamn envelope.

When I opened it, little bits of brightly colored foil exploded out on to my desk, landing all over the Mac and my wireless keyboard.

One can only assume the pure exuberance confetti must feel upon finally being released but I am quite certain that’s exactly what propelled it up into my hair.
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Dear Fellow Chicagoland Chamber of Commerce Member,

You are cordially invited to attend the Grand Opening celebration of our newest Cartridge World location, downtown at 40 West Lake.

Enjoy cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. Network with members blah, yadda, blah, etc.

It appears to be a black and white photocopied invitation. The graphic (a large cork, how clever!) is pixilated to the point where it’s not entirely evident what it is.

In fact, immediately following the mini-explosion, at first glance I thought: “Why is someone sending me a picture of one of those ginormous fur hats that Russians wear in bad movies starring Sylvester Stallone and/or Arnold Schwarzenegger?”
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Dress: Business casual recommended.

“Gee, dahling, what should we wear to the Cartridge World gala this evening?” I ask Lord Jim, who is lounging in the drawing room in his smoking jacket and Van Halen sweat pants.

“The black tux, I think, Sweetums,” he replies, holding a pinky out as he downs the last of his Miller Lite. “Wouldn’t want to get re-cycled toner on the white one, you know.”
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I’m in marketing, so I’m no brainiac.

But I sure as shit know better than to make a MESS on somebody’s DESK whilst trying to SELL them something.

It took me more than 10 minutes to clean it up. Mostly because, upon landing on my keyboard, about 20 of those foil scraps immediately embedded themselves under the keys.

There’s still one little orange sucker under the Apple key that refuses to come out.

I understand, though.

If I’m confetti, once I’m free, there’ll be no catching me.
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“This flyer was printed from a refilled cartridge!”

Obviously. The nicest thing I can say about the crappy little invite was that they spelled hors d’oeuvres correctly.

You wanna know the best part?

The invitation came yesterday. The party was January 18.

"Damn, damn, DAMN YOU, Cruel World," I howl, shaking my fist at the sky in the melodramatic fashion befitting a marketer of my stature.

Actually the best part about this silly little bit of idiocy is knowing that if this whole high-tech marketing thing doesn’t pan out, I can always get a job with Cartridge World.
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I am listening to: KBCO songs from Nelson
I am reading: Nothing
And I am: Never, ever buying anything from Cartridge World