Candy Sales

Now that carwash season is over for a few months, the derby girls of Red River Sirens needed some other methods of fundraising. Right now, it's candy sales. Those really good chocolate bars made by World's Finest, just like the schools sell.

I picked up my box of 50 candy bars on the weekend before Thanksgiving and took it into the office. I was smart enough to leave it there, knowing that if they were in the house, I'd eat them. All of them. Anyone who knows me and my history with chocolate will not be surprised by this. I can make a box of Valentine chocolates disappear in something approaching a world speed record. I used to smuggle my Halloween candy to bed with me and eat it all (except those nasty NECCO wafers, which should be banished from the candy kingdom). When I was about 9 or 10, I ate my multi-pound solid chocolate cross during that tiny window of time between Easter egg hunting and the morning's church service. This is my special superpower and I embrace it. Need to rid your home of some Godiva? You know who to call.

The first day I had the box in the office, I sent an email around the office saying there were candy bars for sale. One boss bought a couple for his wife (nice!). Later that day, when we were stuck in a meeting for several hours and I was glazing over, he suggested I bust out the candy bars. Ka-ching! Five candy bars sold to get us through the rest of the meeting. And sure enough, Monday night, I wanted a candy bar something fierce, but they were at work. Maybe that's why I wanted one so much.

Tuesday brought another marathon meeting on the same project. When the head of the historical research team came in, he was waving a dollar bill and asking for another candy bar. My first repeat customer! They are really good, which is why they can't be in the house. At least I know myself well enough to come up with the work around. Unfortunately, 'out of sight, out of mind' is not working on the candy front. It has become more of a case of 'absence makes the heart grow fonder.' Seriously, I just ate the rest of a jar of chunky peanut butter in desperation over having no chocolate at home, and knowing there is a half a box worth at work.

Upon returning to town yesterday, I realized that as much I would love a chocolate bar, they were all in my locker at work. I had to visit a teammate at her work to pick something up, and took money inside in case she had some for sale there. She did, and I bought the last one. It was the W.F. Crisp, which I realized only today stands for "World's Finest" Crisp and not the much cruder thing I kept seeing, knowing it wasn't that, and yet still giggling inside my head ... WTF Crisp?

Today was my first day back in the office after Thanksgiving vacation, and candy sales were brisk. Every time I returned to my desk, there were fewer candy bars and more money. Nice! I love a product that sells itself. Some mysterious benefactor in the office (I have no idea who) may have been anticipating a rough day and bought five candy bars when I was preparing a cup of coffee. I hope it wasn't my return that triggered the need ... but hey, if it sells candy.

I have limited myself to one candy bar a day. Ok, ok, some days there are two. And then there are the long nights of no candy. I tried taking one home one night, but ate it in the car. It was gone before I even reached the stop sign at the end of the street I work on. The one that is spitting distance from where I park.

I briefly considered including chocolate bars with Christmas gifts, but the self-knowledge is sufficient enough to be realistic. Christmas is still 24 days away, and I couldn't even make it through a ten minute ride home with a candy bar. I am surprised I have held out as well as I have with a box of candy bars on my desk at work. Luckily, I am so busy, I don't really have time to think about it. The meetings lasting three and four hours that keep me away from my desk help, too. Turns out those meetings are good for something after all.