Page 3 of Wrapped Up with the Three Scrooges

“This is fine,” I muttered to myself, channeling that meme of the dog in the burning house. “Everything is totally fine.”

A man walking past gave me a concerned look, probably wondering if I was one of those people who had fascinating conversations with invisible friends. Little did he know, I saved my conversations for my noodles. I straightened up, trying to project “temporarily down on my luck” rather than “completely unhinged.”

The day’s interviews played through my mind like a greatest hits compilation of awkwardness. There was the startup where they asked me to role-play selling a pencil (I may have gotten carried away with a backstory about the pencil’s tragic childhood). Then the marketing firm where I’d accidentally knocked over a $300 desk sculpture that looked suspiciously like something a three-year-old would make with Play-Doh.

And let’s not forget the insurance company where the interviewer kept calling me “Emily” despite my corrections, and I finally gave up and accepted my new identity crisis.

Something had to give. The universe couldn’t keep kicking me while I was down. That would be bad cosmic karma.

My phone buzzed with another text from Josh.Baby, please call me. I miss you.

I deleted it with perhaps more force than necessary. That would be a hard pass. I would rather French kiss Gary’s tinfoil hat than talk to him more than absolutely necessary. Necessary being to make arrangements to have the rest of my belongings moved to storage.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the street, reminding me that soon I’d have to return to my motel room. Just as I was about to admit defeat and treat myself to another gourmet microwave dinner, a building across the street caught my eye.

The storefront was sleek and modern, with elaborate holiday displays featuring expertly wrapped presents. Through the window, it looked like a gift-wrapping paradise, complete with rows of paper, ribbon, and enough sparkly accessories to make a unicorn jealous.

Wrap It Up.

Well, that was... suggestive. I snorted at the name, my inner twelve-year-old immediately going to places that would makemy mother blush. Though I guess ‘Package Your Package’ would be worse.

Slogans started popping into my head the longer I stared at the name. Don’t forget protection for your presents. We specialize in handling your goods.

A couple walking past gave me strange looks as I stood there laughing at my own jokes. Great. But honestly? After the day I’d had, I deserved a little inappropriate humor.

I walked across the street, hoping to suck up some of the holiday cheer. Christmas was by far my favorite holiday simply because I loved decorating with all the things.

And then I saw the sign hanging on the door:Now Hiring Seasonal Help. Start tomorrow!

Was my destiny to spread cheer this holiday season instead of turning into the Grinch? It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for a job, but it was better than nothing.

I squared my shoulders, giving myself a pep talk. What’s the worst that could happen? They say no? It felt like I’d already been rejected by half the businesses in the city. Plus, I was actually good at wrapping presents.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I pushed open the door, a little bell announcing my entrance with a cheerful tinkle that seemed way too optimistic for my current life situation. The scent of cinnamon and pine hit me immediately, along with the overwhelming urge to make at least three more inappropriate jokes about handling packages.

Well, here goes nothing. Time to see if I could wrap up this job search—pun absolutely intended.

A perky blonde behind a curved white desk beamed at me as if I’d just made her entire day by walking in. Her name tag read ‘Sophie’ with a tiny snowflake sticker next to it.

“Welcome to Wrap It Up! How can I help make your holidays magical today?” Her enthusiasm was almost aggressive, like she’d snorted candy canes before her shift.

I glanced around the front showroom, taking in the winter wonderland vibe. Every surface sparkled with carefully curated displays of wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows. The entire space looked like Martha Stewart and Pottery Barn had a baby and then bedazzled it.

“Hi, I, uh, saw your hiring sign?” I gestured vaguely toward the window, trying not to get distracted by a roll of paper covered in prancing reindeer wearing sunglasses. “Unless that was a hallucination brought on by job-hunting delirium, which is totally possible at this point.”

Sophie’s smile somehow got even brighter. “Oh my gosh, perfect timing! We’re desperate for seasonal help. Between you and me…” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “People really procrastinate on their gift wrapping. Like, criminally procrastinate. Last year, someone brought in their entire family’s presents at 6 PM on Christmas Eve. It was chaos. Pure chaos.”

“Wow, that’s...”

“A nightmare? Yeah. I still have flashbacks about paper cuts.” She stood up, smoothing her impeccable black pencil skirt. “Let me show you around! Follow me to where the magic happens.”

She led me through a door marked ‘Employees Only,’ and I nearly got whiplash from the sudden change in atmosphere. Gone was the festive wonderland, replaced by what looked like a cross between a warehouse and a scientific laboratory.

“Holy mood swing, Batman,” I muttered, taking in the stark gray walls and clinical lighting.

Sophie giggled. “Yeah, it’s a bit of a shock at first. We call it the North Pole’s Operating Room. You know, where presents go for their makeover?”

Dozens of people sat or stood at individual stations, methodically wrapping various items with the precision of surgeons. The only spots of color came from the wrapping materials themselves. The silence was almost eerie, broken only by the whisper of paper and snick of scissors.

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