Dear Ms. Purcell
Dear Ms. Purcell,
I wish to thank you kindly for your e-mail to me entitled "lesley@houseofplum.com: you skills expired". Actually, I didn't read the body of the e-mail, but it is rare that someone can so succinctly draw to my attention a significant problem. Until receiving your e-mail, I was, first, unaware that skills ever expired. I was, second, unaware that one used the object form of the pronoun rather than the possessive when discussing someone's skills.
It has become clear to me that I must now go and revisit the very foundation upon which my life, to date, has been built. Perhaps someone can assist me in determining the governing body for skills, so I can file the proper skills paperwork and renew me skills. I will also have to relearn pronoun usage in order to stay current in this brave, new world.
Alas, so much work, so little time. Nonetheless, I appreciate you bringing this matter to me attention.
I remain sincerely you,
lesley@houseofplum.com
Comments
Just in case, I'm going to check on me pronoun skills.
Posted by: Just John | March 21, 2004 03:39 PM
So there's a time limit on how long skills stay with us before they blithely skip out the door, headed for a life of leisure on some sun-drenched beach, sipping hard-to-prounouce drinks and making snide comments on the other assorted skills, talents (latent and otherwise), inherited traits, knacks, flairs, and fortes?
It's bad enough knowing that as we age, our brain cells disappear in random and often pointedly vicious clusters of purposefulness - like the ones that always could be relied upon to remember where you left the car keys, or how much postage has risen this week so that your bills don't get returned after the Post Office has a good chuckle out of the 28 cent stamp you confidently stuck on it.
Now we discover that the cells that comprise those special qualities for which we rely upon to get us a job, or avoid getting a speeding ticket (yes, that is a skill and a very handy one at that) are secretly packing their suitcases, crossing off the days on the calendar, anxiously checking with the airlines to confirm reservations, and are even now as we speak, pacing the corridors of our minds, grumbling and grousing, and causing the vein in our temples to throb painfully.
Damn them. Have they no sense of loyalty or dedication? They can't leave until I'm finished with them, that's all there is to it.
Posted by: Trish | March 21, 2004 09:41 PM