Gretchen Schaffner was raised in a house where you didn't open your yap unless you had something interesting to say. No one said things like, "It's easier to go to the grocery store now that they put that second entrance on Oakridge Lane," or "I used to drink low-fat milk, but now I don't." It was difficult when Gretchen got booted out of the nest and had to make her way in a world of grocery store parking analysts and milkfat content observers. Painfully shy, socially retarded and completely incapable of making small talk, Gretchen floundered through college and an ill-conceived career in commercial banking.
Gretchen did what everyone does when they find themselves smack-dab in the middle of a career they hate: she complained. She complained, and complained, and complained. She complained so much that finally -- poof! -- everything completely changed for the better! Complaining really is the best way to solve problems!
Now, Gretchen lives in regal splendour on a hill overlooking her vast estates. All of her serfs love her and would willingly die for her. She reigns peacefully but firmly and has sent many sons on Crusade. The King and Queen visit often and it is said that the stag-hunting in her forest is the best in all the land.
Actually none of that is true. Suffice it to say that Gretchen was freakishly lucky in her (third) choice of husbands and no longer has to pull on the ol' pantyhose and mid-heeled pumps and work in a goddamn office for some goddamn blood-sucking bank. Now, she makes greeting cards and spreads love and joy wherever she goes. And, without the need to make small talk, she doesn't complain anymore.