Bottle Party

The after party at the end of the water bottle convention was the stuff of legend. All of the bottles would gather together in the Magnolia Ballroom and dance the night away, letting loose all the frustrations of work, the pent up energy from sitting in dull meetings all week. They would rant about their bosses, rave about the good speakers, and mercilessly joke about the presenters who clearly had no idea what they were talking about. They schmoozed. They networked. On the whole, everyone had a pretty good time. But the after party at the end of the 2008 convention almost ended it for everyone.

It started typically enough, but when the usual DJ, an oldies and slow jams kind of fellow took ill, his replacement DJ Dubstep had to fill in at the last minute without warning. From the moment the bass dropped, every bottle present knew things were different. The booming beats vibrated them down to the very liquids of their souls. The bottles rippled and sloshed like never before, and the laser lights reflected through them, turning each into a glorious, gyrating kaleidoscope, a prismatic wonder unleashed.

In the morning, the hotel staff found the whole lot of them undressed and passed out, piled atop one another on the floor. There were awkward apologies. Nervous glances toward the ground. Excuses about intoxication. Everyone accepted the story, but no one believed it. After all, it was pretty clear that no one had gotten drunk the night before.

- Originally mailed to Karen Murphey of Chicago, Illinois

Inflation

When the bottom of the economy finally fell out, inflation kicked in with a vengeance. Being an intelligent guy, Hans Mauer immediately took all the cash he could find and went to a store, knowing that goods would always be worth something, whereas his money might not. By the time he arrived, the price of candy had already almost doubled, so he bought the whole box. Candy was a luxury good, after all, so those lucky few who had wealth would pay a hefty sum for it later. When he arrived home, the same candy was selling for five dollars. A pack of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups came to more than fifteen by lunch, and by the end of the week, inflation has spiraled so wildly out of control he could have bought a brand new car with the money he made, presuming of course that the price of automobiles had not also skyrocketed. But nothing lasts forever, and Hans knew this. When it looked like the economy could take no more, when the neighboring nations would have no choice but to intervene, he sold every scrap of candy he had. He made hundreds of thousands of dollars, and exactly as predicted, the government stepped in with a new gold standard currency. The old money was virtually worthless. As a sort of kindness, the treasury allowed for the old currency to be traded in for pennies of the new stuff, but Hans didn't take the deal. Instead, he waited for all the old cash to die away, to be collected and burned. Then, two years later when he had one of the only supplies of the old dollar bills, he sold his hoard off to museums and collectors one bill it at time, on average getting twice the printed dollar value. In the end, his box of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups netted him a cool million goldbacks. He retired early, all over a little candy and a lot of patience.

- Originally mailed to J. Ransom Raper in Batesville, Arkansas.

Instructions Innovator

Harrison Traxler shook up the instruction writing industry with his innovative One Step philosophy. “Who has time to follow a whole page worth of instructions?” he would ask, and his protégées would cry out “No one!” Early in his career, he struggled with his own theory, often creating complex, rambling sentences, struggling to make each detail fit within one step. Even his early successes, including “favor to taste” and “cook until done” often required a second step or at least a few more ideas crammed up next to his diamonds in the rough. It wasn't until his Exxon Pump Operations commission that he really hit his stride. Soon, he was churning out dozens of one step instructions a day. Under his guidance, Alcoholics Anonymous reduced their twelve step program to one step, “Stop drinking,” and Ikea saved a fortune every year in manufacturing costs by simply printing large on the side of each box, “1. Assemble the pieces properly.”

Not all success can last, however, and soon, one of his own pupils would simplify Traxler's process even further and steal his glory with the One Word instructional paradigm. Ikea boxes simply said “Assemble,” and TV dinners “Microwave.” The Ten Commandments became “Don't” and students spent thousands of dollars to listen to professors say “Study.” Traxler never rediscovered the success of his youth, and died penniless and alone, still developing his One Letter philosophy. By the end, all he produced was “Y?”

- Originally mailed to P. Brown in Clovis, New Mexico