There’s some guy living in the Pacific NW who has apparently spent the last three years thinking his email address is my email address.
I get *so* much stuff for this guy, I can more or less plot a vague outline of his month-to-month life at this point. He works as some sort of freelance consultant, and I wonder how it’s going because he’s presumably missed a number of important meetings, updates and debriefings in the last 24 months, owing to the fact that I get updates about them rather than him. He’s also been having a lot of renovations on his house in the last year, and much as I’d like to confirm Tuesday would be a good time for the roofer to drop by for a quote, I can’t, because I live 4500 miles away and don’t know if he’s free on Tuesday – the same reason I can’t confirm that his air conditioning unit was delivered last week, or that it’s ok for his party of four booking at a local restaurant on Friday to be pushed back an hour. He appears to be having difficulty selling his former property; I’m not that surprised.
