After briefly inspecting the heavy, textured cardstock and admiring the subtle foil stamped on the front, Naperville resident Carolyn Haskins, 58, reportedly returned a premium blank greeting card to her desk drawer on Thursday. Haskins concluded that her nephew’s bachelor’s degree in communications was simply not a momentous enough occasion to justify using the beautiful stationery.
The card, which features a tasteful, uncaptioned watercolor illustration of a fern, was purchased on impulse at a high-end paper boutique in 2016 for $8.50. According to extensive household records, the pristine piece of heavy-weight correspondence has now safely survived three weddings, a 50th wedding anniversary, the birth of a first grandchild, and a life-saving organ transplant within the immediate family. In each instance, Haskins ultimately deemed the event either slightly too casual or otherwise lacking the necessary gravitas for the exquisite paper.
Sources close to Haskins confirmed she spent several minutes on Thursday afternoon running her thumb over the debossed lettering before placing the fern card back in a protective plastic sleeve alongside a stack of lesser, mass-produced hallmark items. Relatives noted she had actually retrieved her favorite felt-tip pen to write a congratulatory message for the graduation, but stopped short upon realizing the milestone felt entirely too mundane for a card that inherently demands a profound, life-altering sentiment. Haskins’ husband, Mark, reportedly observed her holding the paper up to the window light to admire the deckled edge, muttering that if she used it now, she wouldn't have it ready when someone truly important experienced a genuine tragedy.
It is incredibly common for consumers to purchase a magnificent piece of blank stationery and then spend the rest of their natural lives waiting for a human milestone worthy of its 300-gram paper weight.
At press time, Haskins had reportedly driven to a nearby Walgreens to purchase a $3.99 card featuring a golden retriever wearing sunglasses to give to her nephew. She then locked the botanical fern card back inside her oak roll-top desk, quietly confident that it would be perfectly suited for an as-yet-unforeseen family event of unparalleled, staggering majesty.