Hello, homepeople of the internet, and I hope everyone is still hanging in there. I know what you’re wondering, and yes, my beard game is still going strong. Thanks for checking in and showing you care. I did need to ask for my friends’ opinions on one aspect of my…Quaranbeard? (Nope, hate that but leaving it there anyway.) I wanted to know if I could trim my mustache so it wasn’t overtaking my top lip too much, and they agreed that I could do that and still be within the spirit of the self-imposted beard decree. How’s that for a fascinating update?
My story today is from a couple of years ago, but back then I was in the middle of a solid streak of ignoring this blog. It was July of 2018, and someone came by my desk with a small brown box that had arrived in the mail for me. I don’t often get packages there, so I commented on it aloud and wondered what it could be. We have a very open floor plan at work (if memory serves), so I had about twenty eyes on me when I went to open it. The return address didn’t list a company name or look familiar, and my colleagues were as intrigued as I was.
Let me take a step back here. Some of you might think I’m exaggerating when I say other people were “as intrigued as I was” about something I got in the mail, but I’m not. You see, a year before, I got a padded envelope from an address I didn’t recognize. I opened it and was completely surprised and confused (surfused?) to find a sew-on patch that said “Virginia State Police.” I had literally no idea where that could’ve come from, and my colleagues were similarly baffled and enjoying my bafflement. After asking literally everyone in the office if they knew what it was about, we finally pieced something together that involved a test purchase on eBay from someone illegally selling our products there, and that was the least expensive thing on the person’s page. And for some reason, the credit card they used had my name on it, so the patch came to my attention. I kept it and have it taped to the wall still, in case you were wondering.
Another time, I opened a box I wasn’t expecting and found the brown metal head and glowing red eyes of a rabbit that used to be part of a lamp. That’s a long story that I’ve most likely catalogued here before, but my parents and I have been hiding that rabbit head in each other’s houses for years and years, and they stepped it up by mailing it to me at work from a friend’s address. Needless to say, my colleagues were surfused and required an explanation.
So this time, when I said I wasn’t expecting anything and wondered aloud what it could be, they were right there, ready to watch and see what it would be this time. I cut the tape on the box and opened it to find a small burlap sack with something in it. The level of intrigue multiplied as I pulled the sack out of the box and maybe uttered a few “what the fucks” in the process. I peered into the opening of the bag (I just can’t keep saying “sack” over and over), and saw a very strange thing in there. So I reached in and pulled out…a potato. Not just any potato though, a potato that someone had written on in marker, “Haters gonna hate. Taters gonna tate.” I quickly looked back in the box to see if I missed a note or anything, and there was one thing: a business card from AnonymousPotato.com. And that website is exactly what you think it is.
Needless to say, I loved it and wanted to thank whoever was behind it. I asked the people around me, but they didn’t have a clue. I asked some others, but nothing. I reached out to an employee in Utah, and he said, “No, but someone sent me a pillow with sequins, and when you rub the sequins in the opposite direction, it’s a picture of Nicolas Cage, so maybe it’s the same person.” I rightfully had several follow up questions for him, but ultimately decided this was a separate incident. (I did buy some of those pillows later and put them in the main lobby at work without telling anyone. Big hit.)
Everyone was curious and found it mighty hilarious that someone sent it to me, except our former head of HR. He immediately took a concerned tone. “And you have no idea who sent this to you?” he asked. He’s a super nice guy who learned English as an adult after moving here from the Dominican Republic, so imagine that accent if you can when he very seriously asked me, “And what does ‘tate’ mean?” I did my best to explain that it means nothing and why it still worked and was funny (since explaining afterwards is the secret of comedy). He looked at the potato and then back to me and said, “So you are not concerned that some disgruntled person sent this maliciously then?” I told him I was not, but I appreciated that he had my back.
I asked around more. I posted something on our internal chat program asking who the amazing responsible party was so that I could thank him or her publicly. Nothing. And then, a couple of weeks later, I got my answer. I was at a work happy hour chatting with a few people. One, our lawyer who I’ll call Kay, had just gotten back from Iceland and we were talking about her trip. She asked how things had been at the office while she was out, and we said everything was pretty normal. “I heard you got something interesting in the mail,” she said to me with a smile a little too big for the question. “Was that you?!” I asked. She beamed and nodded for several seconds, clearly – and rightfully – proud of the ruse. She said she had forgotten it was my birthday until she saw how my team decorated my desk, and she quickly went online to find something for me. She saw the AnonymousPotato.com thing somehow and knew it would be perfect for me…especially if it arrived while she was out of town.
She was right of course, and she skyrocketed on my list of favorite coworkers. I mean, how could she not? I kept the potato on my desk for a while, but ultimately had to throw it away when time’s winged chariot drew near. I’ll never forget that moment though: opening a box, not knowing what to expect, and finding a mystery potato threatening me that I might get tated. If you are on the Instagram and search for #anonymouspotato, you’ll find a picture of me holding the famous tater. And if you look closely, you’ll see a certain patch for the Virginia State Police on the whiteboard in the background. I have to imagine that patch is rather lonely right now. Maybe I should send it a potato to cheer it up.
Got any good stories about randomly receiving something in the mail? Post away! Otherwise, take care, and I’ll see you back here sometime soon.