Valentine\u2019s Day is the absolute best and worse for people like me.<\/p>\n
I work for a singing telegram agency. I won\u2019t tell you which one. Are you kidding me? After telling you this story, I would most definitely get fired if they knew.<\/p>\n
So, for the last several years, in addition to singing telegrams, I\u2019ve also been a member of the sad group of people who call Valentine\u2019s Day for what it really is: Singles Awareness Day. Is anyone else aware of the irony that the acronym for that actually spells out the word SAD?<\/p>\n
Yeah.<\/p>\n
So SAD was coming up, and I was actually pretty excited this year, because, y\u2019know, money. It\u2019s one of our busiest days of the entire year and I knew I wouldn\u2019t have time to mope. And our boss usually threw in some kind of bonus. Last year it was travel-sized bottles of hard liquor. I\u2019m not sure what he was trying to tell us there, but none of us complained.<\/p>\n
I got to work, changed into my ridiculous tuxedo (yes, even the women wore them), and ran through a couple of scales to warm up my vocal cords.<\/p>\n
And then the boss gave us The List. There were eight of us working that day, and we were all booked solid. Not a surprise, really.<\/p>\n
So I get my list and skim through the locations. I scored the student dorms this year, which is kind of equally awesome and depressing. I mean, I graduated from the university (no names, again, no way in hell I\u2019m getting busted) a few years ago, and my degree in music performance has amounted to me waitressing most nights and singing telegrams all the others.<\/p>\n
After checking locations, I move on to names, and my heart drops into my stomach. I know one of these names. It\u2019s the name of the guy I have been totally in love with for the last couple of years. His stupid girlfriend works at the same restaurant I do\u2014she\u2019s a hostess, of course, because of course she\u2019s prettier than I am\u2014and it has come up once or twice that I do singing telegrams. It\u2019s the only way she ever would have known about this.<\/p>\n
Whatever. I try not to think about it. He\u2019s not scheduled until later in the evening. Maybe I can swap with someone by then.<\/p>\n
So I go on my first call. I get to this office\u2014and damn it, I hate doing this at offices because it\u2019s always the whole damn cube farm that watches, which isn\u2019t just embarrassing for me, it\u2019s usually humiliating for the recipient, too. Anyway. I pull out my pitch pipe and clench it tightly in my hand. I ask for the woman I\u2019m supposed to sing to, and the guy at the desk waves me back. The way he\u2019s smirking, he must have had foreknowledge of this.<\/p>\n
I get back to this woman\u2019s desk, and I introduce myself. I pull out the card, check that I\u2019ve mentally queued up the right song, and blow the starting note on my pitch pipe. The woman is already bright red.<\/p>\n
I do my thing, singing my heart out. Might as well get into it, right? She\u2019s practically crying by the end and can barely get the question out. Who is responsible for this wonderful gift? I give her the card with the actual telegram, and she seems to wilt. Her husband. Who had she expected? A secret admirer?<\/p>\n
I glance around and catch several sets of eyes watching us. I stand there for as long as I can politely stand it, but of course, the tip doesn\u2019t come. Why do I even still hope for that?<\/p>\n
She thanks me again, and I move off. Maybe her husband included the tip when he paid.<\/p>\n
I ignore the cat calls as I leave.<\/p>\n
I make my way to my next stop. A construction crew. Great. It\u2019s times like these that I\u2019m glad our standard uniform is a tux, even for the woman. It saves me a little bit of grace. However, I don\u2019t make it through that stop without a great deal of heckling. The guy\u2019s coworkers punch him in the shoulder several times. I hand him the card and don\u2019t bother to wait for the tip. He can chase me down if he really wants to give me one.<\/p>\n
Stop three. Another office. Another flustered, middle-aged woman. Another round of heckling from her coworkers. At least they were more focused on her this time than me, so I made a speedy getaway.<\/p>\n
My next stop is the dorm. I stop at three different rooms, all girls, and each girl is very excited. So young and innocent. Just wait until they have their freaking hearts ripped out someday.<\/p>\n
I am pleasantly surprised when one\u00a0girl places a five dollar bill in my palm. She gives me a look that says she knows what it\u2019s like to sing for your supper. Literally in my case. I give her an appreciative smile and nod. With a flourish, I hand her the telegram card. She gives me a shy smile and waves as I make my way out.<\/p>\n
Time to head back to the office for a break. Time to try to get out of the telegram for my crush. My boss has other ideas, though. He gives us all two more telegrams and asks us to squeeze them in. None of my fellow singers are feeling very charitable after that, and I don\u2019t know any of them that well, so I grit my teeth and hope that my boss can\u2019t get it up when he gets home to his wife tonight.<\/p>\n
My first stop back out is my first one at a private residence. It\u2019s after five o\u2019clock, and people are getting off work. Going door to door is probably as safe as delivering pizza, I suppose, but it still makes me nervous. I keep pepper spray in my pocket, just in case, although I\u2019ve never needed it.<\/p>\n
I knock on the door, and a teenaged kid answers. She gives me a strange look, and I introduce myself. She bursts out laughing and yells for her parents.<\/p>\n
This is where it gets hard. When the person who ordered the telegram stands there and watches you perform. They secretly judge you. They are waiting for you to prove that you\u2019re worth what they paid. We don\u2019t charge much. It wouldn\u2019t take much for them to get what they pay for. And I am damn good.<\/p>\n
Ok, when I\u2019m done singing, I realize another reason it\u2019s hard. While the teenaged girl has practically lost her eyeballs in the top of her head because she\u2019s rolling them so hard, I can see the love that her parents have for each other. He goes over to her and hugs her. She gives him a tentative kiss, eyes sliding to me, embarrassed. But he gives her a more passionate kiss, and she kisses back.<\/p>\n
The girl make gaging sounds and leaves the room. I feel a slight tugging at my heartstrings.<\/p>\n
Atheist that I am, I send up a silent prayer that my crush\u2019s girlfriend is not there when I deliver her telegram. Not enough baby bottles of booze in the world to get through that hurt.<\/p>\n
The man is a legit decent dude. He gives me a huge tip. I reward him with a wide smile and sing “Goodnight, Sweetheart” as I shimmy out the door. See? Bonus gets a bonus.<\/p>\n
My next few stops aren\u2019t nearly as awesome, but they all equally feel like I\u2019m being stabbed in the chest. Love, love, sappy, love, hugs, tears, kissing. I have two more stops, and I wish I had a flask in my car.<\/p>\n
The second-to last-stop is a crappy apartment where a broke college student surprises his girlfriend by proposing. It was one of those, so cute you want to puke but also secretly want it to happen to you type deals. I knew this was going to happen once I saw the song. I do what I\u2019m supposed to do and keep singing while it\u2019s happening.<\/p>\n
They\u2019re too busy staring lovingly into each other\u2019s eyes to notice I\u2019m done singing. I leave the roses and the card on a side table and let myself out.<\/p>\n
And now I\u2019m sitting here in my car with one last telegram to do before I\u2019m done with this hellish day. And it\u2019s for him. Do you want to hear about him? Well, too bad. I\u2019m stalling for time, so you get our story.<\/p>\n
We met during a production of Babes in Arms<\/em>. I scored the lead, Billie Smith. Cast members were required to put in a certain amount of time at the shop to help build sets. He basically runs the shop, so we spent a lot of time together, mostly him telling me where to paint and not to take my hand off with the table saw. He came to see the show, and gave me a rose afterward, saying that my singing \u201cMy Funny Valentine\u201d was the sweetest he\u2019d ever heard.<\/p>\n And I fell totally in love with him, of course. I go back and help at the shop when I can, and we\u2019re, y\u2019know, social media connected. But I don\u2019t think I\u2019ve spent more than two hours with him total in the past year. I resort to cyberstalking him and his perfect hostess girlfriend.<\/p>\n I finger his telegram in my lap. I turn on my dome light to see what song the princess picked for her prince.<\/p>\n And suddenly all the air whooshes out of my lungs.<\/p>\n That bitch.<\/p>\n Oh. My. God. I knew she was a bitch. But this is a bitchy thing even for her.<\/p>\n It\u2019s\u00a0 not a Valentine\u2019s Day telegram. It is a freaking breakup telegram.<\/p>\n I press my eyes shut. Is this my fault? Is karma kicking me in the asshole for secretly wishing for this? Surely I did something to piss off Cupid for this.<\/p>\n I can\u2019t do it. I feel like I\u2019m going to throw up. Yes, I might throw up. Too many candy hearts combined with life being too ironically stupid for me to handle.<\/p>\n I could just not show up. It\u2019d come out of my pocket, though. With interest. The whole reason I worked my ass off today was because of the money. Clearly I have no pride, or I wouldn\u2019t be doing this.<\/p>\n So I have to show up. If I call in sick, there\u2019s nobody to do it for me. Plus we\u2019re scheduled too tightly today. There\u2019s nobody but me, and I have to go.<\/p>\n I could sing a different song. As I walk up to his door, I rack my brain for another song I could sing. But then what? He doesn\u2019t know they are broken up, and he is probably even more humiliated. And that would really be my fault.<\/p>\n I chew my nail. I stand in front of his door.<\/p>\n Should I sing it? Not too late to flee.<\/p>\n The door jerks opened.<\/p>\n There he is.<\/p>\n \u201cOh. Hi! I thought you were the pizza. What are you doing here?\u201d He gives me a strange look. He knows I do the singing telegram thing. But he doesn\u2019t know why I\u2019m here. I try to think of his roommate\u2019s name. It slips my mind. All I can think about is how shitty it is to be dumped on Valentine\u2019s Day. It\u2019s worse than being alone.<\/p>\n I can\u2019t do that to him.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you here to sing me a telegram?\u201d he asks, his perfect mouth curling into a smirk.<\/p>\n \u201cUh.\u201d I clear my throat. \u201cYeah. I mean, no.\u201d<\/p>\n He raises an eyebrow. \u201cYou ok? What\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n I close my eyes. There\u2019s no avoiding the blow. I have to tell him, but I want to give him something first.<\/p>\n So I sing \u201cMy Funny Valentine.\u201d He smiles at first, and then his eyes glisten a little.<\/p>\n \u201cWow. Beautiful. Thank you. Was that a Valentine\u2019s gift from\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n I cut him off before he can say her name. \u201cNo. That was from me.\u201d I give him a meaningful look. Let it sink in. I can see consternation start to twist his face. I already know the words that will come out. I have a girlfriend. We\u2019re just friends. I\u2019ve never thought of you that way. I have a girlfriend.<\/p>\n \u201cHere,\u201d I say, giving him the card. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n I turn and walk away as fast as I can.<\/p>\n I get to my car, hand shaking, and I can\u2019t get the key in it. I finally do, and he calls my name.<\/p>\n I turn slowly. I can see that he\u2019s hurt. But he has that irresistible half-smile on his face.<\/p>\n \u201cYou want to stay for pizza?\u201d<\/p>\n I blink.\u00a0\u201cYou sure?<\/p>\n He nods slowly. \u201cYeah, actually.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He shoves his hands in his pockets. He looks perfect, standing there in the halo of his porch light with that easy grin on his face.<\/p>\n I take a deep breath. What the hell, right? I\u2019m off the clock now. We can celebrate Single\u2019s Awareness Day together.<\/p>\n \u201cOk.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Valentine\u2019s Day is the absolute best and worse for people like me. I work for a singing telegram agency. I won\u2019t tell you which one. Are you kidding me? After telling you this story, I would most definitely get fired if they knew. 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