As some of you may know, I’ve had some kind of major changes in my life lately. Specifically, there’s been two big events that seem to be shaping my 2012 so far. The first is that I was laid off back in January.
So, while you may be thinking, “Wow, Hamatha that really stinks!”, getting paro-ed isn’t the worst thing that has happened to me.
The second thing is far worse than getting laid off. In fact, it’s something so personal and unsettling, that I have waited to tell anyone about it until I could get the words out of my mouth without getting angry.
Something so heinous and treacherous that I really doubt if a silly blog is really the home for discussing this malicious crime that has been committed.
What the heck happened, you ask?
Before my employer laid me off in January, he had the audacity to commit what could possibly be the world’s worst crime in Spain:
He gifted me bad ham.
In December, before the January layoffs in the company, my company gave all of the employees the traditional Spanish Christmas basket that typically contains ham, wine, sweets, cheeses, olive oil, etc. It’s a very nice thing to do for employees.
And yes, I know what you’re thinking, “Well, we weren’t all lucky enough to receive a traditional Spanish Christmas cesta this year, you know!” And to that I say, “No Christmas basket is better than a Christmas basket with bad ham!!!!”
It’s not that I am so greedy and ungrateful that I expect a huge pata negra in my cesta, but damn, why bother adding ham to the gift if its terrible ham? Also, it’s not just me, I’ve asked around the office and everyone agreed that the ham was the pits.
This ham was so salty that my eyes swell up just from opening the package and so inedible that it has almost killed off any desire I have to eat ham.
So, now I’m stuck. Not only did I take the ham leg to the neighborhood butcher to slice it up professionally, but I made a huge stinkin´ deal about sharing the 20 air-tight bags amongst the family. Because that’s what you do when you love someone, you share your ham.
It was only after getting the gifted ham all sliced and shared that I tasted it. Believe me, it is horrendous! As I said, it’s so salty that even many cold Mahou’s will not be able to quench the immense thirst caused by this so called “ham”.
Why would they do this to me? Fire me, try to rob me and put me out on the street, but don’t give me slices of sodium, have the nerve to call it ham, and say, “Feliz Navidad”!
And now that I’ve apologized to my in-laws and friends for passing out bad ham, I’m stuck with a dilemma.
I’ve still got five packs of ham left in the fridge and its driving me crazy. I can’t just throw it away. It’s awful and I’m not going to eat it, but what can I do with it?
Yes, I’ve already tried to make croquettes and some fried rice cakes, but as of late, I’ve decided not to turn on my oven anymore because its too hot when I do. So, what, do I do with this ham?
I can’ t eat it.
I certainly don’t want to donate it.
Technically, I still owe Hayley some ham as a prize for winning the Guess that Football Player Contest, but she seems pretty clever and might report me for crappy gift re-gifting, so that’s not an option.
I could try to give it to Will and call it veggie ham, but he’s way too busy being a big time newspaper man now.
La Tortuga is very ham savvy, so she would see right through my ham high jinks, so that’s not an option either.
So I’m thinking that my only realistic option is to wait for a very, very hot summer day, get very, very drunk and plaster layers upon layers of these gross salty slices on my former boss’s windshield.