The Gnome Speaks!

Charles St. Gnomey here, official gnome of Whirled Peas Headquarters. I'm chuffed to be writing a guest column on Gently Spoken's shiny new blog, the first ever by an inanimate object in the office. Take that, stuffed frog! You lose, Pink dog! Ahh, but I kid. You might think being a citronella gnome candle who guards over the office all day long is a boring occupation, but you'd be amazed by the insanity I bear witness to time and again. Oh, the stories I could tell you. The frightening things I've seen: Cheryl without her coffee, for instance.

I've been given this opportunity because your normal correspondent is happily swamped with orders to process and can't fulfill her epistolary obligations. Apparently, there's a new line called Just gotta tell you... that all the humans are prattling on about, speaking nonsense like "aqueous process" and "margins." These things concern me not. In fact, there are plenty of things a gnome could say about the state of this office. Does anyone, in their new paper printing frenzy, stop to dust the desk on which I sit? Ha! These paper clips that I so nobly and uncomplainingly guard over night and day are getting mixed up. Does no one care for the careful organization of size and color? Obviously not! And don't even get me started on Edward, that sneaky undead assistant to the GM, who hoards all the large, shiny colored clips to himself and stands by the computer with his perpetually brooding expression.

I don't much care for paper products, I'm not going to lie to you. Sure, they tell me they've switched to recycled paper and they're printing with soy ink, and some other bosh about FSC certification. Do they want a gold star or something? You know what's more important than environmental responsibility? That's right, the gnome! Here I sit, gently wafting citronella throughout the office, warding off insects. There hasn't been a fly in my vicinity since I emerged from my box last summer, handsomely yellow and quite tall--if I do say so myself--for a candle. I give my waxy heart and soul to this company and receive nothing in return but the occasional "oh cute!" from a visitor. Cute?! What's cute about guarding paper clips with my life, risking proximity to matches and sunlight on a daily basis, all for the selfless purpose of making Cheryl and Torrie's lives a little easier? It's called being a gentlegnome.

I guess if I had to buy a card, match to my head, no other options, I'd get one of these Just gotta tell you... ones. They are 16 pages long, and that's a lot better than those sissy single fold cards masquerading as a card and gift in one. I can't tell you if the paper is as soft as they claim, because my hands are affixed to my sides for all bleeding eternity, but I know a nice paper when I smell one. And I can guarantee there will be NO FLIES anywhere near a card that comes from this office. How many other companies can make that claim?

There. That's all the praise you'll get out of me! I'm already running my mouth off too much; we gnomes are supposed to be stoic. Don't go looking to me for sentiment. No sir, that's Cheryl's territory. I wouldn't have to come up with anything at all if Torrie weren't so preoccupied (cough-lazy-cough!) with her "orders." Wait, can she see me writing this? Um. That's all. Stop begging to hear more. I have my priorities. There are paper clips to guard.