This is a first. I have what appears to be a fairly common name. Today at the PO Box, I found a letter from a 7th grade girl. Apparently there is a man with my name, more or less, who write jeuvenile books. ( The young lady slightly misspelled the author’s name and Google’d and hit my name ).
It’s a sweet letter, signed " Loving Reader". I found the fellow online- of course, he’s got a website. I explained what was up, and typed out the text of the young lady’s letter in case this author did not want to give me his address. The gal even enclosed a SASE in the hopes that the author would reply in kind. I offered to send the whole bit to him so he could do a paper reply to her, but have no idea if he will even respond to me.
I think it’s sweet, and nice that in this day and age, people take a piece of paper and still write fan letters the old-fashioned way. Nobody’s ever ME a fan letter but hey… I’m not fan mail mateiral.
Anyone ever get fan mail? Or, mail meant for someone with your name?
I got an envelope in the mail today, addressed to me, from my Mother. It was a birthday card for my wife (her b-day is tomorrow).
I’m used to my mom calling me by my three brother’s names before getting to mine, but I think this is the first time she called me by my wife’s name (especially in writing).
No, but I sent Nintendo a letter when I was 6 and I scored a free copy of Super Mario All-Stars. I was in seventh heaven. I wish I still had that game…
Where I work, the general manager (we’ll call him Josh) clocks a couple of hours in as service manager on most of his shifts, just like the supervisors below him. For those who haven’t worked retail recently, the service manager basically handles any employee needs/issues that arise; breaks, walkouts, marking our personal property to differentiate it from the store’s inventory, fetching paychecks, etc. A different supervisor becomes service manager every 1-3 hours, and they’re supposed to tell you about the change over the walkie-talkie but most of them don’t bother.
One night, after checking the schedule right quick, I got on the walkie-talkie and asked the service manager (we’ll call her Annie) if I could take a 10. Lo and behold, it was a couple of minutes past the hour and I’d misread the schedule–Josh responded, “I don’t know if I should let you, after you called me Annie.” I fired back, “But it’s such a cute name for you–you should keep it.”