If You See a Greg With a Toy Plane, Let me Know

When I was a little kid, I would sometimes get a balsa wood glider.

You know what I’m talking about — lightweight, a couple of red stars on the wings and a metal clip on the nose for weight.

If you slid the wing back, it would fly in a loop. Push it forward, and it would fly in a straight line.

Or maybe it was the other way around.

I loved them. Sometimes, I would get a deluxe one with a propeller and a rubber band. Turning the propellor would twist the rubber band, so when you let it go, it would soar a great distance.

I would always fly it until it got stuck in a tree then wait to get another one. 

I haven’t seen one in years. 

But the other day, as I was checking out at the hardware store, I saw a little bucket full of them right next to a little bucket full of those propellers on a stick that fly straight up when you spin the stick between your hands.

The bucket holding the propellers on a stick had “free” written on it.

The glider bucket didn’t have anything written on it.

For a minute, I thought maybe the gliders weren’t free, and this was some kind of twisted bait-and-switch scam preying on my nostalgia.

I asked if the gliders were free, and the cashier said yes.

The way she answered told me she knew I didn’t need a glider.

I suddenly had a dilemma. My mind went back to when I was the one who ordered the freebies as part of my day job. It was the only part of the job I didn’t care for, primarily because of the outlandish way people would act trying to get more than their fair share of whatever widget we were giving away. I am certain more than once someone concocted a fictitious family member just to get another free coffee mug.

It’s a coffee mug, dude, not a new car.

But in the heat of the moment, when I saw those free gliders, I knew I had to have one.

I thought about saying something like, “Oh, the grandkids will love this,” or, “The boy down the street just lost his puppy, and…”

But then I just decided to own it.

So I grabbed two.

Then I put one back.

It’s a balsa wood glider, dude, not a new car.

Shortly after I got home — and after showing it to Kim with great enthusiasm — I opened my computer, and coincidentally, there was an email from the hardware store.

I normally don’t even open them, but today I did.

The email began like this.

Dear Greg:

After 2 million visits there, they think my name is Greg.

And they think I live in Georgia.

Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Hardware Store Email Guy, whoever this Greg is only has 393 loyalty points. I probably have a gazillion.

And what’s this Greg trying to do anyway, steal my identity?

Is Greg getting my emails instead of me?

And does he think he has a gazillion loyalty points which are lawfully mine? 

I’m talking to you now, Greg from Georgia.

I’m going to get this straightened out.

And in the meantime, I hope your glider gets stuck in a tree.