May 10, 2010
Where the &*%@ Is Shenzhen?
My cousin, Ramone, works at a company whose name I'm not going to share, working with big machinery... making parts for stuff. I'm not being secretive; I seriously have no idea what he does for a living.
Anyhoo, he occassionally gets cold-call emails from companies overseas wanting to do business with his company. And because he knows that I love to mock, he forwards them along to me.
Like this one, from Shenzhen:
Dear Sir,How are you doing recently?
The weather in Shenzhen is becoming hot and hot these days,
I feel summer is coming though it is still spring.Today I would like to send some mold pictures for your reference,
They are molds for medical, TechCo made all of them.
And if you develop any new plastic parts or meet any technical problems,
please feel free to let me know, TechCo will be very happy to provide you big help.
Welcome to your inquiry,
we will give you our best quotation at the earliest time.
hope we will work together in the near future.
TechCo will spare no effort to make your project perfect.Looking forward to hearing from you soon.
Have a nice day.
Best regards.Crystal Wan
Sales of Marketing Department
Ah, so many little gems in there. And no fewer than three sign-offs!
But clearly, the stand-out winner is "happy to provide you big help." Heap big help! Me help you long time!
Oh, like we didn't know I'm a racist! Okay, I'm posing a serious question here -- is thinking that all Catholic bishops look alike considered racist?
We recently rented our meeting space at work to a bunch of Catholic bishops. Father Mulligan came to me during their morning break and asked if he could have something faxed to him here. I said Sure and gave him our fax number. My instructions were to bring the fax to him in the meeting as soon as it arrived.
Yeah, cuz that's not intimidating at ALL, walking into a room of twenty bishops.
So the fax arrived. I hoisted up my pants and straightened my shirt and finger-combed my bangs, readying myself to interrupt the flow of the Holy Catholic Spirit. Hopefully, I wouldn't trip or be struck by lightening or anything. A rain of frogs is really hard to get out of the carpet.
Fax in hand, I peeked into the meeting room, looked around the room for Father Mulligan... and had no freakin' idea which one he was. Mind you, I'd just seen him less than an hour ago. But the room was FILLED with old, white, clean-shaved, white-haired men! I didn't know what to do!
Should I call, "Father Mulligan?" Should I clear my throat and wave the fax over my head? Should I go and find someone who knows Father Mulligan to point him out to me?
Thank God Father Mulligan finally waved to the stupid, racist secretary staring like a deer in the headlights of an Ford F150. There was no way I was gonna figure that shit out on my own.