Blowing The Whistle

For the last two years, I’ve worked at Vasebook, tirelessly trying my darndest to fix things wrong with the company from the inside out. Vasebook is, as you already know, the world’s largest index of flower and plant-like receptacles. It is the go-to place for vases, pots and even elastic bands designed specifically for the purpose of holding stems at bay. 

But I’m not doing it for a second longer. I’ve witnessed tons of corruption and I won’t stay silent anymore. I’ve watched as colleagues from New England and worse were ridiculed by managers for saying “vaaazbook.” Taunted by jovial interns singing “vase rhymes with face, if that ain’t the case, then this ain’t your place.” 

I’m blowing my whistle once and for all. Good thing I’ve carried a whistle since college, the very moment my dreams of becoming a gym teacher evaporated like milk gently heated. 

Before resigning my position as CSO (Chief Stem Officer) I stole a treasure trove of documents (and stems). For instance, did you know that nearly all flowers are DOA? This isn’t a garden center or some botanical boutique that talks to the flowers, rehabilitating the worst offenders like Venus flytraps. Turning these floral malcontents into fine interlocutors. Our flowers are dead and the ones that aren’t dead are plastic. They’ve never even been alive. I learned that flowers are often used in weird cult rituals and religious rites. Events which no one hosting had the courtesy to invite me to attend. That hurt, that really hurt. Especially when the thorns are still visible and quite prickly.

Our product takes water, but dead things don’t need water, they need prayers. A few years ago I lost a dear friend to bulbs, radicalized by the mail order hope of growing his own flowers. It never happened. He stared at the dirt (the dirt stare) refusing to go inside until seeing a sign of life. We facilitate the slaughter of millions of honest flowers each year - and for what? For Valentine’s Day. So Grandma has something to stick in her powder room. It's too much.

I’m like a cooler, greener Edward Snowden. I am going to testify before congress this week insisting that the federal government step in and impose stricter regulations on what you can put in a vase and what you can put flowers inside. The Internet has created a free for all. European politicians have claimed that because of Vasebook’s flower algorithm they’ve taken to wearing boutonnieres at public events they would have gone flowerless in the past. Not every party is a black tie affair. Okay?

Left to their own devices, Vasebook would stick flowers in every open sewer, shower drain, trash can, exhaust pipe. Any hole that presents itself with the requisite width and depth is at risk. Need I say more? Vasebook claims the sight of flowers brightens up the days of every creature. Democracy depends on this. My hope is that Vasebook sees the threat of congressional oversight as a wakeup call. The kind you get a fancy hotel, not a motel where the guy at the front desk is drugged up and may or may not remember to give you a ring on time. I hope they realize how much society depends on their decisions. We can’t survive another four years of flower misinformation. The other day I heard someone refer to a marigold as a magnolia. In a healthy democracy that just doesn’t happen.  

You could always choose to ignore Vasebook and get your flowers from an independent florist and live your life accordingly. But now is not the time for rational solutions. Now is the time for action.