Tuesday, December 16, 2014

The Year Santa Brought Me Poop For Christmas

Not the actual gift

By Kevin Hunsperger
@kevinhunsperger & @my123cents on Twitter

One of the "perks" of working in the news business is having to be there on holidays.  In broadcast journalism Christmas, New Year's and Thanksgiving are no different than a typical Wednesday or Thursday.  There are no days off and through the years I've worked more than my share of Christmas mornings.  I'm not complaining, just using that to set up this story.

On Christmas morning 2007, it was an unusually warm day and pouring down rain.  It didn't feel like Christmas at all.  We finished the morning broadcast and waited to do the Good Morning America news and weather cut-ins and then finally at 9 a.m., we'd all get to go home.  For me, it meant letting my kids finally tear into their Christmas presents as my wife kept them busy with the stocking stuffers Santa had left the night before.  My oldest son was seven at the time and had already called twice asking when I was coming home.

It wasn't long after the newscast ended that someone came into the newsroom and told us there was a Christmas present sitting outside the front doors of the station.  Like I said, it was pouring rain and the box was soaked.  Without hesitation, I went out and picked up the package and promptly brought it to the newsroom.

One co-worker worried that it may be a bomb.  I held the water logged box to my ear and didn't hear any ticking, so I decided it was safe.  There was no tag or card attached, but being the nosey guy I am, I decided to rip off the paper and take a look.

Under the wrapping was a plain box.  I popped it open to see several large pieces of dog poop with a hand written letter inside.  I read the note aloud (I wish now that I would have saved it, I also wish Smartphones were around so we could have taken pics).  It condemned the news department for not doing a story on a motorcycle riding "Santa" in the area who had been requesting coverage from us for the weeks leading up to the holiday.  The letter informed us we were all bad that year and our gift was the poop (he used a more colorful word) from his helper dog.

Despite being mildly irritated by this guy's brazen move, we ended up having a good laugh.  We all questioned why someone would be that upset about not getting their way that they would go through the lengths of wrapping up dog poop and delivering it to the station.  I doubt this "Santa" will be reading the post, but thanks for making that Christmas morning an enjoyable day to be at work.

1 comment:

  1. Do you need Alisha Shipp to take care of the shitty person?

    ReplyDelete