Many years ago, before my wife’s gaggle of girlfriends started getting married and raising families, one of the “ladies”, a communications hotshot in the Prime Minister’s Office, was raising a little hell on the campaign trail. I grew very fond of her spirited opinions, forever on message, and relished those times when she was not in the Nation’s Capitol, but here on the west coast, spinning circumstance along party lines.
She always carried herself with the air of one destined to garner the popular vote, riding the middle-of-the-road sentiment of the electorate, wanting to effect change, but nonetheless happy with the balance afforded the centrist.
When the PMO lost the election and his staff was sent packing, I was tickled when she called me up and made me this offer: “I’ve got the balance of the afternoon to pilfer as many things as I can from the stockroom. What do you want?”
I wasn’t so much shocked as excited about securing Government of Canada branded merchandise. In true Canadian fashion, the lowest she would stoop before power changed hands, was to load up on post-it notes and whiteout.
“I’ll take any stationary with the seal of the Government of Canada on it”, I asked hesitantly. “Failing that, any type of form, blank proclamation, or other such document that I could use as a gag to impress my friends”.
After an obligatory reprimand that touched on everything from fraudulent misrepresentation to the penalties for treason she signed off with a firm “I’ll see what I can do”.
A month later a large manila envelope with no return address appeared in my mailbox. Inside was a one inch thick sheaf of letterhead, resplendent with the embossed seal of the Government, and a note from her disavowing any knowledge of my ever having existed.
I thought it hilarious that I could send a fictitious letter to my friend Skelly, offering advice, as his representative in Parliament, about a nasty “tax situation” that was sure to befall him. Or to Fred, offering an opportunity for him to relinquish his unofficial title as Mayor of Yaletown for a crack at, say, Speaker of the House of Commons.
I never did do anything with that paper, and it’s still in a drawer in my office, under a package of page protectors and colored blank file folders, but it serves to remind me of the possibilities that come with power. The closest I have to that is titular head of a household that defers any decision of importance to my wife, or being the Captain of a small business ship known as Mink Chocolates. So how surprised was I to learn that someone else is the Mayor?
There’s a phone app called foursquare, and there’s a guy named James who, because of a well coordinated campaign, became the Mayor of Mink. I guess until the seat becomes vacant I won’t be able to run for that office, even though technically I own it. I’m more hoping that when he loses the next election, he calls me, and offers to raid the stockroom. Maybe I wind up with some great Mink branded merchandise I haven’t already thought of.
Mink Chocolates Inc.,
Mink A Chocolate Cafe Ltd.
Call the store: 604.633.2451
Call my mobile: 604.376.3464
Call toll free: 1.866.283.5181
Watch: youtube.com search mink chocolates
In Person: 863 Hastings Street West, Vancouver, BC V6C 3N9
Nine out of every ten persons say they love chocolate. The tenth lies.
– Anthelme Brillat-Savarin