Here’s who I’m mad at today: Nicoteenia Caffeinia, Opulence Here’s How, and the Prize Notification Department, all of whom I received e-mails from today. And, come to think of it, yesterday.
I’m always tempted to write back and give spammers a piece of what’s left of my mind. “Are you dumber than lint? What are you thinking? We can send information faster than at any other time in history, and what do you send? Straight Talk on Hair Transplants; DNA Heritage at Discounted Prices; and lots of things I can’t repeat in a family newspaper. You are a sick, sick person.”
But we don’t talk that way around here, at least not to anyone’s face. Plus, I sincerely believe there’s always hope for rehabilitation, so I’ve composed the following kinder, gentler message:
Thank you for your e-mail. Your offer is-uh-fascinating. Unfortunately, at this point, I’m not the least bit interested. What’s more, I’m quite sure I never will be unless, for some reason, I take leave of my senses and lose all ability to reason. But thank you so much anyway.
Considering the subjects you discuss freely in your e-mails, I didn’t think you’d mind if I ask a personal question: Does your mother know what you’re doing with that computer? She loves you (presumably), and she probably brags to her friends that you’re a successful and productive member of society. If she ever finds out the truth, you can bet she won’t be sending you anymore care packages.
Maybe you should consider a career change. You have many fine qualities, persistence and perseverance, to name a few of the more obvious ones. You can type—sort of. You’ve got guts; most people would be too embarrassed to say the things you say. And you show amazing creativity in the way you continue to come up with new ways to say the same thing: “Give me your money.” Have you ever considered using your many gifts to make a positive contribution? In other words, why don’t you get a real job?
A bit of advice though: If you want to be successful in your new career, you may want to invest in a good grammar book and learn to use your spellchecker. Forgive me for being too particular, but I couldn’t help but question your credibility when you tried to sell doctoral diplomas with an e-mail that said, “Get a Dekgree. No books, no clasjeses.” Of course, I realize they don’t cover spelling in doctoral programs.
By the way, congratulations on your “dekgree,” but if I were you, I wouldn’t mention it on any job applications. You may also want to consider changing your name before you head out into the job market. Trust is at the bottom of all good business relationships, and some people find it hard to trust someone with a name like UR Gullible or Falsehood AlMega. Of course, if that’s your given name, it’s easy to understand why you turned out the way you did. Poor thing, you have my sympathy—but not my credit card number.
Finally, in your next career, try not to be so—how can I say this nicely—so annoying. There are just certain things no one wants to know about your personal life. And even your own mother doesn’t want to hear from you as often as I do. Follow my advice and you could still make her proud some day. But please don’t feel like you need to e-mail me your thanks.
(E-mail Dorothy Rosby at email@example.com unless you’re Nicoteenia Caffeinia or UR Gullible.)