The Card-iologist

"Hiiiii. Welcome to Hallmark Greetings & Gifts. May I help you find something today?"

"Well, uh, yes. I'm looking for a Valentine's Day card. For my niece."

"Perfect. Our Valentine's day selection is over here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you sure? I mean, these cards are assorted blues and yellows and greens.”

“And?”

“I was looking for Valentine’s Day cards. I was expecting a selection of cards in reds and pinks. Maybe some glitter.”

“Sir, we are an inclusive card store. I can assure you that blues and yellows and greens can express your festive wishes just as well as reds and pinks.”

“Fine, can you at least point me in the direction of cards for nieces?”

“Nieces?”

“Yes, I need a card for my niece. You know, like my brother’s daughter.”

“Niece? Brother? Daughter? I’m not sure what you mean. We have a very nice selection of person cards. They can be found in any of the three aforementioned colors.”

“Listen, young man. If I didn’t care enough to send the very best, I would walk out right now.”

“Young man? What are you? Some kind of neanderthal? It is completely inappropriate to force your traditional identifiers on us. Do I need to call my personager?”

“No, wait. I’m so sorry. I assumed you were a man. I mean, your septum ring’s engraving reads— It’s a man’s world.” 

“Sir, you’ll note my personal self-expression is intentionally ironic. I think both you and I completely understand it’s a human and huwoman’s world.” 

“Of course, of course. So, do you have any huwoman’s cards?”

“Please, sir. If you don’t stop with your offensive archaic patriarchal classifications, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Here at Hallmark, all of our cards are gender neutral and nonbinary.” 

“Wait, you’re trying to tell me that you don’t believe there are two sexes?”

“There you go again.”

“There I go again. What did I do this time?”

“You used the word sexes.”

“Excuse me, genders.”

“And there it is again.”

“What?!”

“SEX-es. EX-cuse. Tell me you didn’t use words with x’s in them—just to make fun of me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Oh, so now you’re using Y. Don’t think I know you aren’t gaslighting me with your references to x and y chromosomes.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I need to avoid using the letters x and y? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Kidding? You really said kidding? We do not recognise age here. We at Hallmark are also non-numeric when it comes to age. Have you been living on a deserted island? Are you Gilligan or Mary Ann?”

“Actually, I prefer Ginger.”

“You prefer characters named after seasonings?! You do realize that seasonings are objects, thus you must support the objectification of persons who are neither seasonings nor objects.”

“I’m not objectifying anyone!”

“One? Anyone? Typical of someone who is not supportive of the community. You’ve  automatically assumed not only my gender, but also my number. I am not anyone. I am anytwo. And my pronouns are Alpha and Omega.”

“I understand and thank you for educating me. Now, could we please just start over?”

 “At Hallmark, we believe that everyone, everytwo, and everythree can start over. Would you like to see the Starting Over section of our greeting cards?”

“I would just like a Valentine’s Day card to send my niece—my person—”

“Do you own this person?”

“No, of course not.”

“You said ‘my person’ like you owned him or her or they or them or ze or hir or xe or sem or hy or hym . . .’

“You forgot thou, thee, thy, thine, and ye.”

“Ye has been canceled. Kanye West is officially over.”

“My God, who thought getting a card would be so difficult.”

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt because you are obviously retarded only in the exact clinical definition of the term. And we don’t want to use the term card.”

“You are shitting me.”

“I wouldn’t shit you as you are quickly becoming my favorite turd.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I know, but using the word card isn’t funny either.”

“Why the hell not? Because playing cards have kings and queens? And kings are always boys and queens are girls?”

“Hey, you’re right. I hadn’t thought to be offended at that, yet there is more. Diamonds are a girl's best friend, but there are no more girls. A spade is a pejorative name for melanin over abundant persons. Do I really have to explain all this?”

“I’d love a club right now so I could—”

“Could what? Are you threatening all my selves with violence? I assure you, anythree of my personas would gladly open up a can of whoopass on you. Now here. Take this and go.”

“What is this?”

“This is a folded up piece of cardstock with glitter and typography expressing heartfelt sentiments along with an envelope for $5.95.”

“This is a card.”

“If you insist on using that term, I suppose it is.”

“Let’s see what it says. To the offspring of my sibling. I am platonically fond of you and aware of your boundaries. Have the day of your choosing and seek the desires of whatever bodily organ you choose. This is horrible. Do you have any others?”

“Try this one.”

“This isn't a card! This is a Chinese takeout menu.”

“I don’t appreciate your cultural appropriation. Just open it up.”

“I apologize for the paternal Greco-Roman-based hegemony and its underpinnings of modern society. I just want a Valentine’s Day card, not to atone for Western civilization!”

“Just doing my job, ma’amsirthem.”

“Fine. I’ll take the first one. I talked to my mailman, and he assured me if I got it in the mail today it would be there by Valentine’s day.”

“The mailman will get it in the mail? Have you not learned a thing? Were you even listening?”

“As little as I possibly could. What new rule did I break now?”

“You need to get it to your person-person so they can get in the person.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever to you, too. Have a non-specific day and thank you for shopping at Hallmark.”