Wendy L Hooton

Two Can Play That Game

 

What you can plan for:

                 Loving birthday competitions

​

     I love my birthday! Almost as much as Matt loves his, I said almost. I know that may be strange because most women my age claim they don’t have them anymore. However, like dental exams and mammograms, they come every year. There’s only one way to get out of them and that’s the alternative. Personally, as I’m getting up there in age, I appreciate each year I have left above ground. 

     About fifteen years ago my work colleagues turned me into a birthday beast.  It’s true! Sure, Matt may have planted the seed that started my mutation, but the party queens at my nine-to-five caused the big breakout. It all started with their ridiculous transformation of my cubicle. It looked like a party store had puked its guts out. My friends had gone completely overboard, hanging signs from the ceiling, and lining my workspace with colorful streamers and blown-up balloons. They had printed off pictures of me when I was younger and taped them to my monitor and the inner walls. Of course, everyone’s favorite, glitter, and confetti were sprinkled everywhere. What a crazy fun mess! But that’s not how I initially felt. 

     When I arrived at work that morning, people were stopping me in the hallways to wish me a happy birthday. As I made my way to my desk, I wondered How do they know? And I soon found out. As I rounded the corner to where my team sat, I stopped dead in my tracks. What in the world? At first, I wanted to turn and run. Too late, I had been spotted. Someone began to sing. I had no choice but to go with it, so the shenanigans began. 

     I never told my friends but seeing all the hoopla that morning embarrassed me. If they are reading this, and they better be, they may be calling BS on this. You see, I may or may not have a reputation for being loud, crazy, and fun, so to think of me getting embarrassed may be hard to imagine. Still, believe it or not, I felt uncomfortable having that much attention drawn to me that day. This does not mean I did not appreciate that they loved me enough to go to that extent, but it stuck with me, and I worried they would do it again the following year. And they did.

     I had a funtastic plan to beat them at their game. My way of dealing with all of it meant taking the attention solely off me and including everyone else. Secretly I planned a gigantic birthday party.

     My pre-birthday celebration began weeks before the actual day which I knew drove some of my colleagues nuts. Step one, I sent out the invites. I blasted everyone’s inbox with emails that contained a countdown to my big day. 

     Step two required party favors. The evening before the celebration of me, John, Matt, and I sat on the floor putting together bags filled with candy and prizes as we watched TV. We had a great assembly line going. I was particular about the bag contents; these childish trinkets couldn’t be just anything. I like all things groovy, so the hunt for these things began weeks ahead of time. I carefully selected anything colorful and peace sign-related, fun items for me to share.  

     On my big day, I pranced into work with attitude. I wore a sheepish grin, and my arms were full of silly useless gifts. Just as suspected, my cubicle had been attacked again. 

     Proud of my brilliant idea, I walked around to each of my coworkers and interrupted their work with the speech I had prepared. “Hi! Thanks for coming to my party!” and then I handed them their party favor. As if they had a choice, after all, they were there to earn a paycheck. 

     It was fun to see the confused looks on their faces when they turned to see me standing at their desk holding a goodie bag. Surprising them made this the perfect gift for me. 

     Throughout the day I could hear the tooting of party horns and would catch glimpses of people walking from meeting to meeting in crazy eyewear. Every once in a while, you could see bubbles floating toward the ceiling, popping as they hit any objects that got in their way. Our work area resembled a kid’s birthday bash. It made my day even better, to see that I had brought out the inner child in my peers. 

     A fun tradition began, all because of the embarrassment some dear friends caused me. The birth of the beast who preys on white cake.

With each birthday my prizes got crazier and I even started to bring props for photo ops. Work could be stressful and mundane. I think that’s why I started to love my birthday so much; it made me happy to see everyone else enjoying the day with me. Which led me to an even bigger idea. 

     I took my annual tradition a step further when a friend asked me what I wanted for a gift. I felt I had everything I needed and as much as I appreciated the thought, I had no answer for her. She continued to pester me, so in a knee-jerk reaction I blurted out, “You know, why don’t you do something for someone else.” Then, I had an ah-ha moment. I decided I wanted my birthday to be about giving back. 

That night after work, I went out and bought a three-ring binder and in the mass email I sent to all my guests, I included a picture of the binder with an assignment. I wished for them to do something to make someone smile and then send me a story about their experience. That story would be my gift.

     Nobody replied to me so I had no idea what kind of reaction I would receive to this request or if anyone would take it seriously. Imagine my surprise the morning of my birthday when I logged in to my computer to an inbox filled with heartwarming stories of what people had done to make someone else smile. I hadn’t even been at work for an hour and there I sat, in my cubicle that once again looked like a party bomb went off, crying my eyes out, feeling overwhelmed with all the good my friends had done. Not only had they risen to the challenge, but they also exceeded my expectations. I couldn’t stop smiling. 

     Several of my amazing friends paid for others' food/drinks in the drive-thru. A fun story from my BFF in FL who took sandwiches to a local Goodwill store feeding the employees. A friend in OR bought dinner for a military family, signing their check from their friend Wendy in UT (I wondered what the wife thought of this ‘friend’ Wendy). Someone bought a gift card to Wendy’s (for obvious reasons) and gave it to a homeless vet. One of my friends who is a single mom helped an elderly couple get their groceries to their car and loaded them up for them. I received stories of friends giving rides to those in need and caring for a dog that had escaped while its owner was out of town. One person went above and beyond by remodeling the kitchen of another friend, who had been on hard times, while she was away at her parents for the weekend. 

     As I read each of these ‘gifts’, my heart grew bigger and bigger. I felt as though it may explode, sprinkling shards of love like glitter all over my innards.

     But one story stood out and made me very proud, perhaps it’s because it included pictures, or perhaps I’m a little biased because of whom it came from. This gift came from my husband and son. John had taken Matt to a local park where they spent the entire afternoon picking up trash. The pictures showed my sweet boy all bundled up, wearing rubber gloves as he filled his garbage bag full of litter from the playground, and other areas of the park. I could tell it had been a chilly day and yet their smiles radiated warmth. My tears wouldn’t stop, and lord knows I tried because I didn’t plan for this so I had not put on waterproof mascara that day. 

What started out as a simple three-ring binder, quickly filled with stories of the best birthday present ever. A gift that would not need to be returned or exchanged and could be treasured forever. 

     These stories brought me so much happiness it began my new birthday tradition. Giving to others, per directions I would provide.  

The following year my friends joined me, and we assembled hygiene kits to hand out to the homeless. These bags were stuffed full of necessities and a few additional items, thanks to the generosity of my friends. We had a RAK (random act of kindness) year. I had a year where I asked that my guests pamper themselves because we can all use a little more pampering. The next I challenged them to go 24 hours technology free. Sadly, that one didn’t do so well. When I turned fifty, I asked that everyone do something kind to help a senior citizen...for obvious reasons. 

     But my personal favorite birthday, giving flowers to a stranger. I came up with this idea because I love flowers and don’t believe people get enough of nature's beautiful bouquets. In my opinion, you can’t go wrong with a spring bouquet or a bunch of Gerber daisies. The more color, the more beautiful.

     For this assignment, John and I took the day off work, and together with Matt, we went to a flower shop where each of us picked out four bouquets. I hoped to surprise twelve women—one for each month of the year—and if everything went as planned, we would brighten their day. 

     As Matt and John approached random women and handed them their bouquets, I watched proudly from the car. From where I sat, I could see my boys' faces as they pointed toward me and explained what we were doing. I could also see the reluctance and astonishment on the faces of the recipients who had been selected. I waved. They waved back. I loved it! 

One woman did turn away their gift and scurried to get in her car. My smile faded as a realization hit me. I suddenly understood how much of a chance we were taking with this year’s request. I can only imagine how it felt to have two strange men come up to you in a parking lot. For the first time, I found myself grateful for my son’s physical appearance as I think this helped any others who may have been feeling apprehensive.

     John admitted he was glad when his part was done. While the majority of the flowers were well received, he felt bad for the woman they had scared, understandably so.

     When it came to my turn, I did not have this experience. I had an easier time delivering my bouquets, except for the last one. I will forever remember the recipient of this bouquet. I spied a short elderly lady wandering around looking for her car. She appeared confused as she pushed her key fob repeatedly waiting for the right car to beep. That or she was just trying to ignore and possibly lose me as I followed her around. After several “Excuse me Ma’am’s” with no response, I finally just stopped and said, “Hey! Today’s my birthday.” This got her attention. She stopped and turned to look at me, a bewildered expression on her face. She had jet black hair, with streaks of gray, styled perfectly in a bouffant, as if she had just been to the salon. There were large dark circles under her smaller-than-usual deep brown eyes. She carried her purse in one hand and her keys in the other.

     After an awkward moment of silence, I handed her the bouquet and said, “I love flowers and how special they make me feel. And women don’t receive them enough so today for my birthday I’m giving flowers to strangers.”

She hesitated before accepting my gift and as she did she said, “But if today’s your birthday, you should be getting the flowers.” I smiled at her and shared that my husband had taken care of that. She put the flowers to her nose and closed her small eyes as she took in their scent. She opened her eyes and looked back at me and her next words surprised me, but also gave me goosebumps.

     “Are you an angel?”

     I stood there for a minute and then began to laugh. “Not hardly.”

     She started to cry. “It’s been a long time since I’ve received flowers,” she said. I glanced down at her ring finger and saw the indents where a ring had been. I guessed that this sweet lady must have been a widower.

     “May I hug you?” she asked.

     I smiled at her tenderly as I bent down to receive her hug. It felt ten times larger than her entire four-foot frame. “Happy Birthday Dear,” she said through her glossy eyes.  

     “Thank you!” I managed to choke out in my hoarse voice. My emotions were getting the best of me. I waved and rushed back to our vehicle where my boys had been watching. As I did up my seatbelt, I heard a faint beep beep and turned to see her taillights lighting up. I smiled. She had finally found her car. She looked so frail as she hung onto her purse and bouquet of flowers. There was no holding them back now. The faucets opened up and my tears began to flow.

     Best. Birthday. Ever!

     I can’t be sure, but I think it’s possible I’m the only woman who wishes she could have more birthdays each year just to keep giving out assignments and doing for others. While it’s not the only day I do these kind acts, it is the only day I can be bossy and have others join me.

     I don’t promote my birthday because I think I’m better or more special than those around me. In fact, I find joy in celebrating others and making a big deal of their day. I believe everyone should love their birthdays and celebrate themselves like my son and I do because by golly, we all matter

     I am not disclosing these things for attention because I believe nice things should be done anonymously. In fact, I questioned whether I should add this part of myself to my book. However, a beautiful mentor of mine suggested that I do this to give you, my reader, a glimpse of who I am as a person. And no, I am not an angel!

     Look, life can be hard, sometimes really hard and I have found on my hardest of days when I take the time to do something nice, oftentimes it turns my day around. Additionally, I believe it's crucial to make time to show others kindness, including those who don't necessarily seem deserving. It may be they who need it the most. At the end of the day, we don’t know what each other may be going through and a small act of kindness can go a long way.  I guess you could say I try to live my life in the way that comes so naturally for my son.

     Each birthday means another year to celebrate life. It’s an opportunity to matter, it’s an opportunity to party, you get to be boss, and possibly most important, it’s an opportunity to eat white cake. 

 

Lessons Learned:

               Birthdays should never be dismissed; they have feelings too. Always celebrate like it’s your last.