I glance at my phone, look at Facebook real quick. I check e-mails, out of habit more than anything else. I’m not expecting any highly important correspondence to come through. It’s mostly junk. It always is.
Still, I pause at the message that starts with “You have been selected by People Magazine…”
Hmmm. Perhaps someone has written to them about me. A friend, I’m guessing. An individual who is rather fond of me, no doubt. What a nice thing to do. I can only imagine what he or she might have said.
Dear People Magazine:
I know this girl. Her name is Mary. I feel like I need to tell you about her.
A brief synopsis of my character and unique talents, followed by a flattering list of awesome things I guess I do that this person has noticed and felt compelled to share with a national publication reserved almost exclusively for artists and celebrities. Wow.
I click on the link and read a little further, beyond the preliminary caption.
People wants me to consider subscribing to an additional magazine. Sports Illustrated. They think I might like it.
Forget all that stuff I just said. Clearly, these idiots know nothing about me.