Meet my friend, Water Carton Wilson. He’s a hip kid. I wrote about him this week for The High Calling.
I ask the barista for bottled water, and she cocks an eyebrow, smirks, and says in that ascending tone endemic to the millennial, “we don’t serve bottled water, but I can bring you boxed water; it’s much more environmentally friendly.”
I agree, slide my debit card across the counter, and she pulls out an oversized carton reminiscent of the elementary school cafeteria. Its marketing department is rather pleased with the renewability of the container as is evidenced by the prominent declarations on three of its four sides. The third side, though, has only the word “happy,” scrawled in a whimsical cursive font on an otherwise blank canvas. I look at the one-worded side—it’s begging to be markered, I think.
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