The Results: What does it take to win a muffin?

I have been since early Tuesday morning. I just don’t see the point anymore. I’m a nice person, I do nice things and I think, at times, I have intelligent things to say. I just don’t understand what it takes to win. I talk to everyone, do everything I can and yet somehow I always seem disappointed with the results.

Seriously though, what the hell does it take to win Tim Horten’s Roll Up the Rim?
What did you think I was upset about? The elections? Please, that was so 72 hours ago.

So here is my beef: Every morning I go to Tim Hortens during the now infamous Roll Up the Rim contest. While standing in the usually long line I start to day-dream the same way I assume lottery players do. I think about what I would do if I actually won something. I think about how nice it would be to have a new car or a GPS system. Then I start thinking about what the hell I would with a boat in Alberta and then I start to get flustered with the obviously coastal-province bias with this years contest. I usually start to calm down by the time I order my double double. I try to play the odds of winning by getting different sizes every day. Are there more prizes in the mediums? Or what about the extra-larges, or is that just what they want us to think because all the winners are really in large.

By the time I get back to my office I’ve decided that I should just leave the cup size up to the Tim Horten’s Gods of Rim. For the rest of the morning I slowly sip my coffee, trying not to act too eager to finish it because everyone knows impatient coffee drinkers never win. You have to wait to roll up the rim until the entire cup is empty. Every last drop. It doesn’t matter how many trips you have to make to the microwave to warm the coffeeup, the cup only rewards those who actually finish it.

I usually finish sometime before lunch at which point I close my office door (for privacy in case I win), throw out the lid and like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I roll the rim back slowly with an excitement that is only matched by Christmas morning and GST cheque day. I hope and pray that today is finally going to be the day. That boat, like it or not, will be mine.

Then I see it. That dreaded red background with the words that read: “Thank You, Please try again.” And with that, at least for a couple of minutes, my world is crushed. It’s amazing how one little cup can make all of my lives greatest accomplishments seem asinine and pathetic. What good is a University degree if I can’t even win a donut or muffin, let alone a boat?

By the time the tears on my face dry, I come to my senses. It’s just a game. Thousands, if not millions play every day; can one man really expect to win? As I try to stop my hands from shaking, thanks to the extra large coffee, I gather myself and re-open my office door. Even though I didn’t win today, the work day must go on.

The contest lasts for a couple of more weeks and I still can’t help but feel my chance at “the golden wrapper” is just around the corner. So for now I wait. I think about strategy and my next plan of action. After all, it’s only two hours till coffee break.