Dear Esquire

I subscribe to Esquire magazine. Or at least I used to. Now I simply pay for a subscription that gets delivered to my former address. I've visited the mag's web site to fill out the online change of address form. Sounds simple enough but the fine folks at Esquire (or the computers working in their stead) can't seem to find me in their records. I think the problem is that I cannot remember the information on my address label exactly as it appears.

After enough failed attempts, I come to a screen with a form I can fill out "to send a message directly to our customer service team." Here goes:

I need to change my address but when I search here it says it can't find my subscription account.

Is it because I don't remember the four-digit code that comes after the zip code in my mailing address?

If you could make the search function work with partial information, it would be easier to work. I can usually remember my name and on a good day can even get the address right (current and former!) but if you're going to quiz me on the zip+4 code then I'm never going to get Esquire delivered to my new address.

Please help.

It promises a response in 48 hours.

NPR

I just yanked the earpiece out that was feeding NPR into my head. Another story about a black couple murdered in Georgia. I'm sorry to hear it but I've heard it before and don't want to again. There was terrible injustices done, I get that, but how long am I supposed to feel guilty for being born white?

Heck, while slavery was legal here, my ancestors were farming pototoes in Ireland. Apparently not too successfully, either, or they wouldn't have climbed onto the boat that brought them to Philadelphia in 1904.

I'm as liberal as the next guy (OK, not really) but NPR really irritates me. I like the format -- long, in-depth pieces that explore many facets of a story -- but the lefty point of view that renders every poor person a victim of inadequate government funding grates on me. Is no one featured in an NPR story EVER responsible -- at all -- for their plight?

After the stem cell veto, NPR actually offered a commentary by someone who supported Bush's point of view. I don't share that view and I was eager to hear a more thoughtful articulation of the argument against stem cell research than the president could offer. Of course the person they put on was such a whack-job moron that he made Bush sound like Churchill and made opponents of stem cell research sound like a bunch of redneck wingnuts who would like to turn the clock back to 1862, the year before the Emancipation Proclamation.

Which was precisely the aim, I'm sure. Probably not intentionally. The people who work at NPR sound like they live in a different world. To them, anyone to the right of John Kerry is a redneck wingnut who would like to turn the clock back to 1862, the year before the Emancipation Proclamation.

A Simple Prop

I should offer a disclaimer regarding my posts about Sarah, especially in the unlikely event that someone who knows either of us stumbles across this and deduces our identities.

I am not as infatuated as it might appear.

The REM song in which Michael Stipe sings, "This one goes out to the one I love -- a simple prop to occupy my mind," explains things well. My theory is that there is a part of the brain always devoted to pining for someone. It will choose the most convenient target. For now, that is Sarah.

Don't misunderstand. There is certainly a lot I like about Sarah and if she were available and interested I would certainly make a go of going out with her.

If she were available and interested, she'd have dropped a hint at some point in our frequent correspondences. So instead I write letters to her to give that part of my brain that needs to need someone something to gnaw on until the next one comes along.

I hope it gives her something too.

The Tab

I traded e-mails back-and-forth with Sarah most of the day yesterday. I'd like to say it was flirting but it was really more of an exchange between two people both used to getting in the last word.

It started when I set myself up for another rejection. I had to do a freelance gig after my regular job last night that would put me near where she lives. Wednesday afternoon I wrote to suggest that she let me spend part of my freelance fee on feeding her dinner.

She didn't disappoint. Or she did, depending on your view, because she was busy and couldn't do it. She wrote back that she'd take a raincheck -- again -- then rattled off some of my offers of food and fun which he has not taken and finished with, "i got a nice tab going here, don't i?" (She charmingly dispenses with capital letters when she writes.)

Replied I Thursday morn:

I dunno... better check those coupons to make sure they don't have expiration dates on 'em. ;-)

Or something.

How did the games go this weekend?

I've mentioned Sarah's beach volleyball passion before. She had some big tournament she had to drive an hour away for. Turns out rains had ruined the courts and the event had been "CANCELLED" (OK, so she doesn't always dispense with caps), which she found out after she drove all the way there.


That is the first time I have heard of an event being called on account of bad sand. That was a lot of driving for little reason. Good thing gas prices aren't pushing $3 a gallon or anything.

Competitions for me lately have consisted of wrestling with various home improvement projects, with "wrestling" being a more literal description than I'd like. That TV hasn't gotten any lighter over the years and while drilling pilot holes before putting screwing in the braces for the window blinds is not a requirement, my sore hands might have appreciated it. (Note to self: Next time you buy a home, buy one of those electric screwdrivers too.) Installing a new kitchen faucet would have been a snap if there hadn't been all those pipes and the undermount sink in the way. Or if I had two more elbows (preferably reversible) on each arm.

She wrote back that the tools in her house went unused when she moved in, at least by her: "i just asked people who know how to use them to do stuff. (hang curtains, pictures, assemble furniture, etc.)"

Jack: Being pretty has its perks. ;-)

Said Sarah: "Really? I'll have to ask my pretty friends. I've found that feeding people is a good incentive too." Uh oh. Did you notice it? Capitalization. This cannot be good -- just like when you were a kid and mom called you by your full given name. She appeared not to like the suggestion that people will grant her favors because she is attractive. C'mon. Someone is going to give up a Saturday to hang curtains in her house because she has plied them with pizza? I wasn't going to say that. I did consider telling her that she ought to round up some of her volunteers and have them install new mirrors in her home because if she doesn't know that she's pretty the mirrors in her home are obviously broken.

I did NOT consider apologizing. It was not my mistake if she was offended by the sentiment. Instead:

Oops! The attempt at a compliment appears to have fallen short.

It's true that I haven't seen you in a while but I have a photogenic memory. I never forget the pretty ones. You certainly qualify.

I agree: Food works too.

At that point, I had had enough. And it was time to go do that freelance gig that started the whole exchange. How my possibly offended friend would digest it, I wouldn't know at least until this morning. If she had something to say, she'd get the last word.

She did. In my In-Box this morning: "Awwwwwwwwww - thanks!"

Safe, for now.

My employer is slashing 15% of its workforce. My department was spared for now. Better dust off the ole resume and drum up more freelance work.

What a week so far.

Spit It Out, Already!

Memo to people who show up to work with a hacking cough that won't quit:

The first time we ask if you want some cough drops, it's out of concern for you. The second time we're hinting that the racket is distracting us from doing our jobs. The third time we offer we are subtly suggesting that we don't care what it takes -- including your death from emphysema -- we just want you to shut up.

When you're at work sounding like you're trying to cough up a Mini Cooper, our sympathy ends in the first ten minutes. If it's going to be an all-day affair, do us a favor: Stay home and annoy your family instead of us. We have work to do.

Thank you.

To Be of Service

This is a lame comeback after the extended absence but I just stumbled across a site offering a free Jung Personality Test. I'm skeptical that a 53 multiple-choice question test can tell what kind of person you are.

The fact that it's free probably means two things. One, you get what you pay for and, second, the site will try to install all manners of spyware on my computer. (Thanks CounterSpy!)

Here's how I scored:

ISFJ - "Conservator". Desires to be of service and to minister to individual needs - very loyal. 13.8% of total population.

Free Jung Personality Test (similar to Myers-Briggs/MBTI)