Winsted-Lester Prairie Journal, July 16, 2001

Anything but the Dew!


I have been kicking around the idea of writing a regular column for quite some time, pretty much since the beginning of my employment with the Winsted-Lester Prairie Journal. The problem I have run across, however, was what to write about.

Unfortunately for me, the subject matter became crystal clear as I left my office Thursday afternoon.

We had a little negative excitement here at the office this week. And it's time for me to vent.

I have a message to the person/ persons that felt that they had the right to steal my personal belongings from my car and the car of my co-worker ­ what comes around, goes around.

My vehicle, parked innocently in the back parking lot of the newspaper's Howard Lake office, where our staff designs and lays out the newspapers each week, was invaded.

And you will never guess what they stole . . . they had the nerve to steal my 23 bottles of Mountain Dew soda, right from the front seat of my car. Nothing else, just my pop.

And why did I have not one, but 23 bottles of pop in my car? Because my co-worker, Lynda, the Herald editor, did something nice for me and got some when it was on sale.

They didn't take the change that I keep in the cubby hole, didn't take the watermelon that I was bringing home, and didn't take my sons' toys from the back seat. Just the one thing that I really wanted that afternoon.

Now, hold on, and let me explain. I realize that pop is just that ­ pop. Not much to get bent out of shape about.

The problem lies in that it was my pop, in my vehicle, in the parking lot of my job where I go most days of the week.

You just don't mess with a person's caffeine intake on a day that is close to deadline!

When the stress hits, there is always that one little reward for a job well done ­ my afternoon pop. It's my reward for working hard in the morning, not to mention a little pick-me-up to help finish off the day.

Well, when I went to my car to get my reward, it was gone. No reward for me. And I had worked just as hard on this day as I do every other day. Bummer.

I can't really complain, considering that Jami, the counterpart to my job on the Herald side of the office, used to have a CD player in his vehicle up until now, thanks to the sticky hands of an unknown perpetrator.

Needless to say, I got the better part of the deal. We weren't planning on calling the police because of some soda ­ they might have laughed us right out of town (not that I would blame them). But a CD player is another matter.

Up until that point, it really was kind of funny. But that was where it lost it's humor.

What can you do? Nothing but vent, and that is what my intention was to do, to get this off my chest.

I'll really feel better, however, when (and when being the operative word here) we find out who did this.

You may notice that there is a classified ad asking about my "lost" pop. Who ever said that the media doesn't have a sense of humor?

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