The Great Christmas Tree Fiasco
At age 28, holiday cheer had always been a mixed bag. While everyone else seemed content with whatever tree they found on sale at the local lot, I—Hot Josh—had standards. Standards that screamed “Pinterest-worthy” or bust. It was the first Christmas in my new apartment, and the tree had to be as stunning as I looked in my holiday sweater collection.
It started innocently enough with a visit to a nearby tree farm. Friends advised getting there early for the best selection, but I arrived fashionably late because perfection takes time. By then, the farm was bustling with families and couples clutching their mediocre firs. As I weaved through the crowd, I spotted it: an 8-foot Douglas fir that seemed to glisten under the afternoon sun. The holy grail of Christmas trees.
The problem? A small family was circling it like vultures. A child clutched the lower branches as if his love alone would keep the tree safe. Not wanting to make a scene—yet—I casually leaned against another tree and waited for them to move along. Surely, they’d realize it was too much tree for their modest living room. But after 15 minutes of agonizing loitering, I realized they weren’t budging.
“Excuse me,” I finally said, flashing my most disarming smile. “Are you buying this tree?”
The mother looked at me, startled, while the father muttered something about needing to check the price tag. The hesitation was all the opening I needed. “Oh, it’s a beautiful choice,” I cooed. “But it might not fit in your car. Maybe that smaller one over there would be more practical?”
To my amazement, they seemed to consider it. But then the child wailed, “I WANT THIS TREE!”
Desperate times call for desperate measures. “I’m actually a Christmas influencer,” I fibbed. “This tree is kind of integral to my brand. If you let me have it, I’ll make sure you’re tagged in my post.”
The father sighed and waved me off. Victory! I immediately paid for the tree and arranged for delivery. My heart swelled with triumph as I imagined the compliments rolling in once my living room transformation went live.
However, the story didn’t end there. When the tree arrived, I realized my ceiling was 7 feet tall. Undeterred, I grabbed a saw and began trimming… only to send pine needles flying everywhere. The top half of the tree broke off entirely, leaving me with something resembling a deformed shrub.
Lesson learned? Sometimes, entitlement brings more needles than necessary—literally. The tree became a hilarious centerpiece for my holiday party, though, with friends dubbing it “Josh’s Folly.” Despite my aspirations, the imperfect tree turned out to be perfect in its own way.
