A True Thanksgiving story

Many years ago I was a volunteer counselor at a crisis intervention hotline. It was on Thanksgiving afternoon when the phone rang, and the caller, sounding very distressed, said that her relatives were already arriving for dinner, and her turkey, still frozen, wouldn’t fit in the microwave.

At the time I didn’t know about the Butterball Hotline, so I used the counseling skills I had been trained to use, and attempted to help the woman through her crisis. I reflected her feelings and empathized with her and explored how she felt about her options and reassured her that she wasn’t stupid (this took a great deal of effort). I was clearly getting nowhere with her, so I mentioned that among other things, we were a suicide hotline, and perhaps she could hand the phone to the turkey, so we could discuss its end-of-life situation. For a few seconds there was silence on the line, and then the woman stammered, “Oh . . . Oh, I don’t think that’s possible; it doesn’t have a head.”

I almost wet my pants.

That’s pretty funny.

I heard about a call to the Butterball hotline. The caller was worried because her turkey just barely fit into her oven. The hotline person said that it shouldn’t be a problem. “But what happens when it rises?!?”

I guess that’s what you get when you stuff a turkey with yeast bread.

I would be terrible at that job, Panache45. “You think you got it bad? I have to listen to whiners and nobodies on Thanksgiving instead of being at home! They think their problems are SOOO important! Hello? Hello??”