The "S" Is Silent (and often Invisible)

Taking a break at work yesterday, I checked my personal email account on gmail to discover what looked at first blush like all the incentive I’d have never needed to make yesterday’s typographical doodlings my last ones forever.

How’s this for a “grab the reader’s attention” first paragraph:

“Attention; Beneficiary,

This is to inform you that the BILL GATE FOUNDATION in collaboration with INTERNATIONAL MONETARY FUND (IMF) has awarded you cash payment in line with IMF economic compensations program.”

Who doesn’t love CAPITAL letters? NOT this guy! Okay, the punctuation is a bit goofy and, I will concede, an “S” is lacking on the name of the foundation (maybe the “S” stood for savings?) sending me the email.  

But what about this:

“It may interest you to know that your name and e-mail … will receive … funds in … the sum of US $2.8 Million (Two Million Eight Hundred Thousand United States Dollars)…” May interest me?  You now have my complete and undivided attention. I was getting ready to click on a new tab and search for ‘pony rides for the emotionally deprived and philosophically depraved’ (I’m speechless at the first entry found; talk about art imitating life).

Then I saw this banner on the top of the mail from the buzz-harshers at Google:

“Why is this message in Spam? It's similar to messages that were detected by our spam filters.” Oh Quicks Draw, I think we have a problem! Hold on, Bob-a-Looie, I’ll do the thinkin’ round here! Except the last time I had a thought it died of loneliness.

The Missing-an-S email went on in great detail with a large number of ‘vital payment numbers,’ code words and passwords, everything short of angry birds I think, and in the end, as is too often the case, proved to be nothing more than empty electrons not worth the paper they weren’t printed on.

I was thisclose to a Life of Leisure. If only the people who had sent me the email had really had the money and were actually going to give it to me, I’d be in the lap of luxury finishing this entry and making sure my polo ponies had a bumper crop of marsiedotes and anecdotes, or whatever it is they eat, to feast upon until it was time to cantor to the regatta (my sister, Evan, is cringing at my abuse of equestrian terms).

Grab a number, sister, and take off your thirsty boots. Welcome to the best ten seconds of my life, at least in recent weeks.

-bill kenny