A Yucky Month

I discovered a few years ago that February, which is kind of a nasty month due to the weather, really affects people in a real way.

I learned this accidentally. Maybe six or seven years ago--I don't remember the exact year--a teacher at the high school where I worked sent an email out stating that she thought it would be a good idea for morale if everyone in the building knew each others' birthdays. That way we could all send each other birthday greetings on our special day, or we could even give secret gifts on that day. She wrote, "If you're willing to participate, please reply with your birth month and birth date. You don't have to include your birth year (We don't want any hard feelings)."

After a moment of contemplation, I wrote back to her, "Dear _____, I actually have no problem at all telling you my birth year. It's 1968. And I'm perfectly willing to tell you my birth date as well--it's the ___th." (I told HER the actual day, but I'm afraid of possible identity thieves out here on the Internet, so I'll leave it blank here.) "What I cannot believe is that you would ask me the MONTH of my birth. What's wrong with you? Do you have no sensitivity at all? I have half a mind to write an official harassment complaint against you."

I received the following reply: "Ha ha! Really, what month were you born in?" I wrote back to her that I couldn't believe that she had asked me a SECOND time, and that I was actually looking for the official harassment form. I never heard from her again (oddly enough!).

However, I came to work on the ___th of May that year and found sitting in my classroom a desk that the librarian had been saying for months she was going to throw away, and that I had been telling her for months that if she ever decided to throw it away that I wanted it because I could take it home and refinish it. Attached to the desk was a note that said "Happy Birthday." I didn't make the connection at first. I thought the librarian had just decided to give me the desk and was saying that it counted as my next birthday present, whenever that birthday occurred. However, when I went to my mailbox in the teacher's lounge I found six or seven birthday cards in my inbox, along with a couple of nice little gifts. And that's when I understood: since I never gave the teacher my birth month, she had just guessed. So as far as anyone at the high school knew, my birthday went from being in February to being in May.

And I've never corrected the high school on this error, and here's why: People are friendlier in May than they are in February, and I get better presents and better cards. And I've had six or seven years now to test this theory, and I tell you it's absolutely true. The Board of Education building and the other five schools in my district all have written down my actual birth date in February, and on that day I get a card from everyone at the Board where I work and maybe one or two other cards from people. And when I see people in the halls at the schools they say "Happy birthday," but they say it in this depressed, morose way, as if they're really not all that happy for me. In May, though, when the weather is warmer, the flowers are out, and the end of the school year is just days away, the faculty at the high school heap cards, gifts, and sincere "Happy Birthdays" upon me. And the whole feeling of my birthday is different.

I supposed I COULD tell the people at the high school the truth, let them know that for the last six or seven years they've had it wrong. My birthday is NOT in May. It's in February. Maybe I owe them the truth.

Naaah!