Gift Basket Review - May/June 1995

By Sheree Zielke

All right, I confess. I was a closet -- scared-to-death-of-shrink-wrap -- gift basket architect. That is until I met ... Tom ... It's something I'll remember forever... there, I said it. But now I wonder how many more of me are out there. Terrified of big HOT blowguns that burn holes in tender shrink-wrap. Custom-created bags... big enough to hold Santa himself. And enough fancy schmancy equipment to put a new basketeer into the poorhouse.

 

I had just been a few years in the business, but only a few months seriously, and already I was starting to feel the pressure. There I was, my 3rd JUBILEE convention (in Washington), and everywhere I went, the instructors were talking about shrink-wrap. No, they weren't just talking shrink-wrap... they were shouting shrink-wrap from the rooftops.

Was this a sign? Was I to finally cross the river? But what of the horrors? Those frightening tales of guns that are too hot and wrap that is too thin.

I crept into basket workshops not knowing that the end was near. I looked and listened as basket guru, Cherie Reagor, talked about the merits of shrink-wrap. I listened as Queen of Basketdom, Sande Gill, moved  miraculously through the procedure of shrink-wrapping a basket, an act akin to brain surgery to me.

I marveled at their mastery of the PVC, their seeming complete lack of fear as they wrapped and taped and heated.

Was I next? Could it be? I asked questions, but remained unconvinced. I even bought one of Sandi's videos. I remember it like it was only yesterday.

"Take this one," she said with a big convincing smile, "it's my first video."

"OK," I said, "But I'm scared."

"Oh, it's easy," Sandi said in her effervescent way. I took the video, clutch it to me all the while knowing that I didn't even own a piece of shrink-wrap. And, it was that thought that led me to... Tom... the man who changed my life.

I shyly hung back watching as other women gathered near him, awed by his command of his heat gun. But as they moved off, I found myself drawn nearer to his demonstration table, I watched, fascinated.

His aim was perfect. Not a hole, not a faulty wrap, not even one. Unroll a length of shrink-wrap from the roll, down comes the bar... s-s-s... off comes a newly made bag. Zip, zap, down over the basket in front of him. Now the gun. He had that basket sealed up tight as a drum in moments. Rip a hole, tear off the wrap, and do it again. I was mystified. And then I had a thought. What if... just what if...? I screwed up my courage.

"Tom," I said (for that was the name on his badge), "Would you let me try doing that?" My hear stood still. Would he reject my bold advances?

He looked up and smiled. "Sure." It was that easy.

I reached over and took the gun. My hand was trembling in anticipation. I hesitated just a moment and then... I turned on the control. Hot air whooshed forward. I lifted the gun -- wary at first -- and aimed it at the shinning enemy in front of me. At the moment I say the wrap begin to curdle and warp, I panicked. I frantically began to jiggle the gun around to avoid that horror of horrors... the HOLE!

"No, no," Tom said. "Hold the gun still at a 45 degree angle. You don't have to wave this gun around."

"But Tom," I cried, "A hole... it'll burn a hole."

He scoffed and snorted just a little. "Those other guns were designed to strip paint. This one is designed to shrink-wrap."