Satire | Humor

Confessions of a Failed Greeting Card Writer

Not everyone has my way with words

Yeah, the person who said writing greeting cards is a great gig didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. My name is, well my name’s not important. I was instructed by my lawyer not to mention the name of the company that fired me or my name until after the lawsuit is settled.

Fine, I won’t. Let’s just walk down this “hall” together shall we?

For those of you who don’t know this, the greeting card industry, although in decline at the moment, is still a very big business. Somewhere in the neighborhood of seven billion cards are purchased annually. And at an average cost of between two to four bucks a pop, that’s a healthy chunk of change.

No, a writer won’t get rich writing greeting cards, but if one applies themselves the money made can buy several bottles of your favorite sour mash. Uh, yeah. You don’t think I had intentions to write this shit sober, do you?

Oh, and food. Some of the money could be used to buy food.

So, at first, I thought things were going pretty well. I mean, I could write sentimental gush just as well as the next person. But there’s only so long somebody can write saccharine laced comments about somebody’s birthday boy or girl, a promotion, a marriage, or graduations before reality rears its ugly head.

Here’s another fact I didn’t know before I took this gig. Four out of every five greeting cards are purchased by women. Why is that important to know? Well, if you’re a male, most of the time you have your head stuck up your non-sentimental ass.

If that’s the case you ain’t going to have too many submissions accepted. And you end up buying less sour mash, so you end up getting even less of your work accepted, because again, you can’t write this shit sober, and you end up purchasing even less sour mash.

When you write greeting cards for a living having your head stuck up your non-sentimental ass becomes a vicious spiral into sobriety and no job.

But I was prepared. I’d already stocked up on six months of booze so I figured I could handle things and I was doing so well at first. But then I suck at so many things there’s no reason why I shouldn’t suck at writing greeting cards, right?

I suppose providing you a few examples of what I’m talking about would help here.

Okay, there was that time I was commissioned to write a card for the birth of a baby. You know the wonderful, cherished bliss a proud parent experiences when they bring their bundle of joy home?

Yeah, you get the picture. Well, here’s what I sent in:

Well, you’ve gone and done it haven’t you? Popped that little money-sucking creature right out. We hope you two enjoyed that seven minutes of steamy sex in the back of your parent’s mini-van without a condom, cause that little screaming bag of poop is going to break both your pocketbook and your sanity.

Strangely, it wasn’t accepted, but that was okay cause I still had enough dough in the bank for my weekly round of sour mash. Next up? Nuptial sentiment. Hey, there’s one way to say congratulations and then, well, there’s my way.

Pay no attention to the men standing behind you with the shotguns. All you have to do is say two words and you get to live. Of course, you’ll never be free from this family of gun-toting rednecks you’ve just now met at the alter. Oh, and happy father’s day when that baby’s born.

Right.

Oh, and then one of my favorites. The condolence card. You know, the “we hope you're getting better, we’re all rooting for you” card that comes with a big bouquet of flowers that wilt on a stand in your hospital room? Yeah, that one. Another fail.

We’re sorry you’re going to be in traction for the next couple of months.We’re guessing right now you wish you had something to scratch all the itchy stuff going on underneath those casts on your arms and legs. But hey, it’s your own fault. Just because you mastered the bunny slope in three days didn’t mean you could take the blue slopes like you were Lindsey Vonn. What the heck were you thinking?

Okay, so my career as a greeting card writer wasn’t turning out to be as lucrative as I thought it would be. But hey, every now and then I slipped up and wrote when I was sober and by George, it got accepted. So I was able to stay in the game for a bit.

I guess the one that got me fired was this graduation card I wrote:

How in the world did you manage to pull this graduation thing off? And you’re planning on going to college? Really? The last time we checked, mastering a third grade education won’t even get you on the tail end of a garbage truck and you expect mommy and daddy to buy your way into Harvard? Is your last name Loughlin or something?

Who knew realism was something the greeting card industry wasn’t really into? I suppose to be successful as a greeting card writer you have to have that rare talent of crafting a “we’re so sorry you’re a stupid shithead” sentiment without telling the shithead they’re a shithead.

And if you want to be a good greeting card writer you better get used to your days being filled with butterflies and unicorns and empathetic sympathy. Or is that sympathetic empathy?

What the hell difference does it make? They’re still shitheads.

Thank you so much for reading. You didn’t have to, but I’m certainly glad you did.

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© P.G. Barnett, 2020. All Rights Reserved.