It was my wife’s birthday last week and I thought I had done everything right.
That wasn’t always the case. Back in the early ’90s when we first started dating, her having a May birthday was problematic. You see, back then the Leafs were actually playing hockey in mid-May. Now I know many of you would be too young to remember… but in ’93 the Buds came within a goal of making the Stanley Cup finals.
Not only were the playoff runs a challenge for me on her birthday, but I also went to about 28 weddings (all her accounting friends… who married other accountants… you can imagine the excitement!) during a three-year period. But back to the birthday story.
One year, I booked a romantic dinner reservation for the sweep-her-off-her-feet time of 5:30 p.m. That made her suspicious.
I think by 5:44 p.m. I had downed my meal, asked for the cheque, served her a cupcake with a candle and was ready to leap out the door. Somewhere in those 840 seconds she realized my true motivation wasn’t to take her to a candlelit lounge, or cut some tile at a club, or to sit by a glowing fire.
No, what was Pat Burnsing inside me was to see Gilmour, Clark, and Anderson don their armour for the true Game of Thrones.
But last week I was a much better birthday hubby. I had gone with the kids to Oddjects on the weekend to buy some planters and candle holders, for the boy’s gift to Mom. Before you snicker, you have to check this store out. It’s amazing and has already been a successful source for some Mother’s Day gifts and will be the destination for housewarming presents, dinner party thank-you’s, and perhaps a parting sendoff for Oprah.
Why Oprah?
Well I told you I have weird dreams, and last night I dreamt about Oprah. She showed up at a high school track event I was doing for Nike. She ended up running against the kids and somehow fell and got injured. Then she recovered and ran an exhibition 400-metre race. Then we all cried and she asked me to take her to lunch where my friend works. We got there as he was being fired, on HIS birthday. Then I pigged out on lemon meringue tarts and French fries, totally blowing the new diet I started May 15th and has helped me lose nine pounds so far. (Remember that when you see me at Forum!)
The losing nine pounds part is true. The rest was a dream. And I only had two glasses of wine last night!
So the kids gifted Mom with the Oddjects stuff in the morning. I had ordered flowers from Tidy’s to arrive at work, although they phoned that morning with some ordering issues, they arrived. We had dinner reservations booked for North 44 which is walking distance from our house. A babysitter was arranged and in my pocket, a handmade necklace I had bought in London when I was in the UK for SportAccord a month ago. By my event planner “anal-ity,” I was all over this birthday!
The weird stuff didn’t start happening until about 2:00 p.m. I got a call asking me to be in a meeting at our Canadian Tire client for 3:00 p.m. CT headquarters are near my house so I told my wife I would just go home after the meeting and do email. “What?!,” she exclaimed, “Don’t you have work to do here (at the office)?” So I changed my plans and returned here at 5:00 p.m.
Around 6:30 p.m. I had enough, and even though I usually leave at 7:00 p.m. or so, decided it was time to get home, say hi to the kids and have a pop before dinner. So I started to waddle my way out of the office. We had given the staff the long weekend Friday off, so I wasn’t surprised so many folks were plowing through last minute tasks. But the office did seem overpopulated for that time of day.
About three people stopped me and asked me what I was doing for the long weekend. I am not Mr. Small-talk, so this proved painful. But the odd thing was that as I did, people started racing past me to leave. Okay – whatever.
Heading home for the arduous 11 minute commute, I decided to chat with my best friend about our drinking-night plans for Saturday. While I was on with him, my wife phoned about 87 times. Finally I picked up and was instructed to detour to friends of ours to pick up my eight-year-old from a play date.
Four minutes later I arrived at their door. Or what I thought was their door. My friends and son were there in body, but in reality I thought they were characters from The Stepford Wives. Everyone was so odd! Smiling absently. Casting furtive glances at one another. First my young guy, who is Mr. Organized, couldn’t find his shoes.
Then my friend, who is a doctor at Sick Kids, started telling me odd stories about his injured knee and his wife’s broken toe. Then he and his ten-year-old asked me if I knew a website for a local soccer league. Hey man, you’re saving kids’ lives all day and you have never heard of Google? When we escaped, my son ran right past my car, to get home.
Minutes later we were on our street, where in the middle of the road, searching frantically for something, was one of our digital team guys. I waved. He blanched. He saw my wife. She waved. He Usain Bolted inside. What is this? Desperate Housewives?
I thought it was odd he was in my house, but didn’t rush in with a gun. Instead I closed up the car, grabbed my dry cleaning and sauntered in to a couple of smiling kids who led me into the backroom.
The first oddity was Alex, our company videographer, staring his lens at me. The next was the glassware and rows of wine and champagne on the counters.
The oddest, were the 48 TrojanOners in my kitchen and family room.
Unable to comprehend, why 80% of my team were yelling “Surprise” and “Happy Birthday” to me, I pointed to my wife and half-whispered, “It is her birthday not mine.” Given that I had seen a message to that effect in the all-company weekly update, I was a bit surprised about their confusion.
Someone handed me a giant custom greeting card with “TrojanOne Seventeen” on the cover. (Sorry Fast Five creators). Then it was explained to me, in bits and pieces, that the team had decided to throw a surprise birthday party for me, for the company’s birthday (which is May 16th). And my wife had agreed to give up her birthday as it fell on the prime party night a long weekend eve. Still not understanding, I went upstairs to my room and took a deep breath.
Maybe they are just here for a quick drink and then we are still going out for dinner?
Maybe they meant it to be a party for Mrs. TrojanOne?
Maybe the digital guy really is playing the role of the Milkman?
Maybe I just don’t understand why my staff would want to spend part of their long weekend at this grumpy old man’s house?
After a few hours, several explanations, many refreshments, an awesome BBQ meal, two back flips by one of my staff (using an intern as a pommel horse), one noise complaint from a stupid-fart neighbour I had never seen out from his Mommy’s basement in eight years, a spontaneous invitation to an ex-employee who had met and started romancing his love while both working for T1, an amazing piece of lemon meringue pie from Flaky Tart, some straight from the bottle champagne chugging, three great staff speeches, an impromptu dance party on the back deck, and the escape – and return- of one gorgeous Cavapoo named Prince; I finally understood.
TrojanOne was born May 16th, 1994. Thanks to my team for an amazing Anniversary party. I was truly shocked and even more touched.
But really, my thanks to you and for all the folks that have worked here prior (that includes you Mark Grant) for enabling me to live a DREAM: Owning my own business. Being involved with the most amazing brands. Attending the most amazing events. Meeting the famous, not so famous, and even the infamous from every corner of this country.
I am way too lucky.
You are probably asking, why seventeen? Why celebrate that anniversary? Hey why not – with the Leafs as our team, we need something to cheer about in May!
