It's July 1st. Canada's birthday. Fire up the grill and crack open a cold one.
Speaking of which, nothing defines some of us Canadians better than our love of beer. It ranks right up there with, um, ah, our love of hockey. Sit back, relax, and take a look at the true meaning of I Am Canadian...
Bob and Brenda worked in the supermarket. They weren't check-out clerks. And they weren't stock-boys. Brenda sure wasn't. And they weren't employees who worked in the fish section or the deli. No. They were on the shelves.
They hadn't been on the shelves very long but in that short time they'd developed a considerably close friendship.
The chatted all day when the store was busy and at night when the store was closed. They talked about everything. The talked about what raw products they came from. The talked about their manufacturing processes. And they talked about the long routes in semi-trailers that brought them to this store.
Oddly enough the one thing they never made clear to one another was just what product each of them was.
One day when Brenda was commenting on their friendship she told Bob she was grateful for their amity. "Are you Tea?" said Bob, pekoe-ing her way. "I thought I was Tea". You're coffee!"