Hallowed Grounds

“Jenson is here to see you, sir,” said the CEO’s secretary over the speaker.

The CEO stopped pacing for a moment to lean down and press the talk button. “Send him right in.”

A moment later, Jenson entered the room, carrying with him a tablet.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Jenson said. “I imagine this is about the cost-cutting reports that my team filed. I brought them with me to talk through, in case you have any–”

“Jenson,” the CEO said. He’d gone back to pacing. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“Sir?”

“You see,” the CEO went on, “last Thursday, I okayed the purchase of the frames for the Christmas tree lawn decorations. One of our top sellers. Then, I had an important meeting with some investors. You know how that goes. You can’t do that much glad-handing without a cocktail or four…”

Jenson tapped around on his tablet. “It says here, sir, that that was a video call.”

“Dammit, Jenson, let’s focus on what’s important,” the CEO said. He stopped pacing and took a deep breath. “Anyway, I’d forgotten that I’d approved the purchase, so when I went into my email later and saw the message, I approved it again. I got the reply almost immediately. ‘Another order, sir?’ But at that point, I was on my second post-meeting cocktail and didn’t pay attention to the subtext. I approved.”

“So what you’re saying,” Jenson said, “is that we have twice as many of the frames as we need for the Christmas tree decorations.”

“Not only that,” the CEO said, “but we can’t return them. And we’re on a razor-thin margin, what with the increase in materials costs, the tariffs, the doubled executive cocktail budget, and so on. If we don’t find something to do with these things pronto, the whole company could go under. I need you to work your magic here, Jenson. Think us out of this thing!”

Jenson did just that. He stood there a moment, deep in thought.

“What,” he said, finally, “is the worst, yet most iconic holiday candy?”

“These frames don’t look anything like Peeps, Jenson,” the CEO cried.

“No, sorry,” Jenson said. “The holiday in question is Halloween.”

“So you’re talking about Smarties,” the CEO said.

“No,” said Jenson.

“Bit-O-Honeys?”

“No.”

“Circus peanuts?”

“No.”

“Tootsie Rolls?”

Candy corn, sir," said Jenson. “I’m talking about candy corn.”

“Ah, yes,” the CEO said, sitting on the edge of his desk. “People don’t like it because it’s a lie. Doesn’t taste anything like corn.”

“That’s not–” but Jenson stopped himself. “The point is, sir, we can dress these frames up as candy corn and break into the ever-expanding Halloween decoration market. And it would be so simple. No copyright to think about and a very basic design. All we’d need are the three iconic colors.”

“Puce, mauve, and gray,” said the CEO. “Of course!”

“Not even close, sir,” said Jenson.

“I’ll leave the design coordination up to you, Jenson,” said the CEO, “but by God, this is genius! You’ve saved us again, you really have! In fact, I’d say you deserve a little something nice for this!”

“A raise, sir?” Jenson asked, growing excited.

“Even better,” the CEO said, moving across the room to the bar cart and going to work. “The raise… of a glass. And since you’ve done such a good job, I’ll cover half your cocktail with the executive cocktail budget. You only need to pay for half in cash!”

“How generous, sir,” Jenson said, receiving his drink.