Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away Boobs and I went to Hyundai in Oakville. On our first visit, we got matched with a salesmen. We stood around, looked at the cars on display and asked car-type questions. A week or so later we went back because I had a hankering to test drive an Elantra GT. Even though I’m a sucker for hatchbacks, it sucked.
During our second visit, guy #1 was busy so we hooked ourselves up with a new sales guy. At some point when he was done with the other customer, he walked up to Boobs and said, “What’s the matter, you don’t like me, Steve?” Well, one: you were busy and we didn’t feel like waiting. Two: Boobs‘ name is NOT Steve. We still say to each other and we laugh. Hoo, it was funny.
Fast-forward to earlier this month when I had a great freelance opportunity within my grasp. All that needed to be done was firm up some details and I’d be writing for Enpundit by Monday. I responded with glee to the email I received saying that I was a great candidate. “You bet I am, Amanda!” I thought to myself as I hit send.
But then I didn’t hear from her. Monday was quickly approaching. I had so many ideas of what I could contribute. What happened? Maybe she went out of the country. Maybe she’s super busy. Maybe I offended her? Crap. Some recessed brainwave told me to check the email I’d sent her. Maybe I’d missed something. I looked at her sign-off: it was from Amber. I’d missed something all right.
NNNNNNnoooooooo. I was immediately plunged into a slow motion movie scene. I. called. her. by. the. wrong. frickin’. name. Are you effing kidding me? I’ve spent the two weeks since kicking myself on a regular basis for my duncey-ness. What an idiot! What a buffoon! What a fool! This was me:
Oh, Amber. I was SO looking forward to the job. It was so ideal. It was so interesting. It was so ME. See, I got it right this time! I did!
Time to briefly cheer myself up with a related scene from one of my favourite movies: