A Flight of Fancy – Jam Jar Stylee


This is a flight of fancy on the previous jam & bourbon theme.  It bears ABSOLUTELY NO relation to the aforementioned company, and does not refer to their employees.   All I have done is use their emails and my responses as inspiration for this.  I’ve just imagined how the whole situation may have come about, and have written a tiny sketch / story. 

First there’s Darren, the person I sent the first email to. He’s soooo on the ball and cares deeply about his work. Having read my first impassioned message, he obviously scribbled my email address down, passed it to Holly and relayed the message in detail.

Darren to Hayley: ‘It’s something to do with jam jars. Can I go on my lunch?’
Hayley to Darren: ‘Lunch? LUNCH?!!! (Rising hysterical tone) You expect lunch?! You will NOT be going on lunch!’
(Darren looks bored and slinks back to his computer chair, resumes looking at porn on the internet)

Hayley replies to my email whiist muttering to nobody in particular ‘Cheeky cow!’ Ensuring Darren is still glued to his seat she leaves the office for her lunch and sits in her car on her own, eating a Greggs pasty and swigging from a huge bottle of Bourbon she’s nicked from supplies.

(The next day…)
My second email arrives. Hayley knows something has gone on because Darren begins sniggering in his corner, which is unusual as he usually just hunches over his computer and looks shifty if someone walks behind him. Her computer goes ‘ping’ to herald the arrival of another email. Hayley reads the email…..Hayley is not amused….Hayley goes ballistic and begins swearing aggressively about jam.

Andrew pokes his head around the door. He’s on his way back from a publicity do, where he has been conducting PR and persuading reluctant and highly amused Londoners to drink out of jam jars. He doesn’t really want to find out what the matter is, but is concerned that Hayley may attack Darren who is laughing uncontrollably and dodging flying boxes of paperclips and a hole punch.

Andrew takes control of the matter quickly, not because he’s efficient – more because he’s lined up afternoon drinks with a tall blonde and needs to leave the office as soon as possible to conduct more ‘PR’.

‘Hayley, my office please!’
She follows him into the office wielding a print out of offensive email about jam.
Five minutes pass and Hayley storms out of the office, shouts at Darren who has been forwarding jam emails to everyone in the office, grabs her huge Gucci bag (which seems very heavy and clinks suspiciously) and leaves the office.

Meanwhile Andrew googles ‘Customer Care,’ and speedily copies and pastes chunks of text containing the words ‘most concerned,’ ‘sincere apologies,’ and ‘restoring faith’ into an email interspersed with the word ‘jam jar’ every now and then. He glances at his watch, hits send, stands up and heads for the door; not forgetting to check his balding comb over in the mirror on the way.

Next Morning:

Hayley sits at her desk staring at her screen, trying very hard to get her eyes to focus, already regretting her first couple of bourbon shots of the day. It is all quiet, apart from the ticking of the clock on the wall and passing traffic.

Andrew wanders out of his office and sits down opposite Hayley.

‘Now Hayley, the jam jars….
(pause while he looks mockingly earnest) They were a fantastic idea. I have managed to persuade a couple of people to drink from them at these do’s we’ve set up, but frankly I’ve been told not to attend those venues again by the management there, they didn’t think it was a good image to portray to passing customers. You see, people kept trying to drink from them without the straws and it all ended up a bit Tramp Chic instead of Bourbon Buzz.  I love your ideas Hayley, but your they aren’t working too well and I can’t take any more ‘glassware’ off your hands.  Please don’t bring in any more.’

Hayley wobbles to her feet on her huge bright red patent heels, and shouts ‘It’s all your fault Darren!!!’
Darren responds defensively ‘I didn’t force you to buy the damn things, I just said they’d hold bourbon! It’s not my fault that people look mental drinking from them and that you can’t get rid of them!’

Hayley unlocks her flat door, goes in and sits down. Her entire front room is crammed with cardboard boxes filled with jam jars with a logo printed on the side. She unzips her bag, slides another huge bottle of bourbon out of it and then pours herself another drink, which she drinks resignedly from a jam jar.

After Andrew had stern words with Darren about encouraging Hayley to ‘branch out’ into jam jar profiteering, he wrote me this email….

Dear Kay,

Thank you for coming back to me and for providing me with your further feedback. I am genuinely sorry that you felt disappointed with your prize, we believed that all winners of the ‘Win A Jam Jar’ competition would be pleased to receive branded merchandise, and have had positive feedback from a number of winners, however I am truly sorry that in this instance this was not the case.

Thank you once again for raising your concerns with me. I have taken careful note of the points you raised.

Kind regards
######### ######
PR  & Events Account Manager

So this is probably why I ended up with an…..

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