Holiday Fun Funds

Silver-haired Marian Jones had outlived the husband who called her his platinum redhead, her kids were grown and on their own, and she didn’t want to be a burden to anyone, but she did want to enjoy the winter holiday season, so one year she looked into seasonal temp jobs.

The company she went with, Traskway Inc., offered opportunities with several seasonal specialty kiosks in shopping malls everywhere.

Marian showed up on time every day, provided great customer service, and handled everything that came her way calmly and efficiently, despite the holiday rush and commotion. Her smile remained friendly and her blood pressure remained low, admirable traits for people in many high-stress jobs.

When her kiosk closed, Traskway approached Marian with a seasonal opportunity that would give her a lot more spending money for much less work, making it possible to spend most of the holiday season with her family. There was travel involved, but Traskway made all arrangements, covered all expenses, and provided any tools or equipment necessary for a particular job.

Marian seized the chance, and every year thereafter, she would leave for Europe, South America, Asia—where ever she was needed—some time before the winter holiday season, and be back in time to really enjoy all the celebrations at that special time of year, with souvenirs of her travels as gifts and remembrances. In addition, she had interesting stories to tell of where she had been and what she had done, checking on the quality of merchandise she had to verify, and dispatching it accordingly.

When Marian peered through the twenty-X scope on her sniper rifle, her low blood pressure never caused the bounce that large, powerfully-built shooters had to contend with at half that magnification. After she pulled the trigger with her gloved hand, she got up and melted into the crowd, her warm smile never failing to brighten the day for every one she passed on the way to the airport.

The warm coat and gloves she gave to the first beggar she met never failed to bring expressions of boundless gratitude either. The smell of gunpowder was barely discernible in the cold night air, and never a problem, as it would have been trying to get on a plane almost anywhere in the world. A few more steps and a car would pull up, a coat and pair of gloves on the back seat, her luggage in the trunk, her first-class ticket in the coat pocket, as well as verification of a recent, sizeable deposit to an offshore account.

Happy holidays to one and all—except the one no longer with us, no longer despoiling lives and holidays. Marian is picky about that.