I have a wonderful, crazy, cultured friend who shall remain anonymous but who works for the Americans. That's right. She's a Canadian who works for an American Consulate. She's the Communications Director (I just made that up, I have no idea what her title is but it has something to do with Communications I expect since that's what she normally does). Now, she was finally able to set foot in her new office about 5 months after the initial news that she'd been hired because it took her that long to make clearance on security. The only person they didn't interview was her Grade 1 teacher and her former Japanese playboyfriend Matsumi. (Which, if you ask me was quite an oversight!)
She's a real bon vivant and has to meet diplomats and others and schmooze and know ridiculously obscure details about all sorts of countries in the world that I didn't even know existed and in general just ensure America's understanding of Alberta is on track. Afterall, there's oil in them there rocks. Would there be any other reason that Americans would give a flying cow patch about Alberta? In short, she has to handle whatever comes her way, professionally, diplomatically (no international incidents please) and efficiently.
For a while, she thought she might totally luck out and get to go to Ottawa when President Obama made his first visit. But, that didn't pan out (money's a bit tight south of the border have you heard?). So, she had to stay back in Calgary and handle the really BIG issues.
One of the most time-consuming issues that she had her finger on the pulse on was what to do with a 40 pound box of chocolates that the CEO of a well-known, BC-based Chocolate company (that shall also remain nameless) was insisting be given as a gift to the President. Give me a break. Why would he want THOSE chocolates when he could have Bernard Callebaut chocolate located right in Calgary.
Anyway, the CEO (as CEO's tend to be) was very persuasive and wouldn't take no for an answer on how to go about bestowing these chocolates on Obama. The only thing is, I(like Duh) you can't just send a 40 pound box of chocolates to the President of the United States. Why do you think he drives around in something called The Beast?
You don't go running up to Barack with chocolates. You have to send the chocolates to his attention at the White House and once the bloodhounds and the Secret Agents are done with the chocolates, all he gets is the empty box, brown wrappers falling out the sides with a note on the top that says, This was a 40 pound box of chocolates from the CEO of a Canadian company that makes chocolates at which point some underling will write a tasteful, appreciative, Thank you. (And, I digress but that brings me to another Blog post about why movie stars and the rich, the people who want for nothing materialistically, are always being thrown free stuff like evening gowns, Nike clothing, trips, hookers, etc.) Does that make any sense?
So, anyway, in having to go back and forth between the Chief of Protocal at the White House and the president of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, my friend started to get really amused by it all. Giddy. A bit delerious. A little pissed off with the President, of the chocolate company that is. She began to wonder whether there was an Office of Perishable Gifts in the White House and about the kind of things that might actually end up there. Cheese. Smoked Salmon. Chcolate. Pickled Herring from Finland. Caviar. (the list is ....well, just take a look inside your own fridge).
I have no idea if such an office exists I said, laughing, but I could imagine that if they're smart, and staying true to Al Gore's intentions, just behind the Office of Perishable Gifts there's a door that opens onto even a bigger office and that one is full of nothing but compost bins. No shit!