My life has been hectic, I accidentally signed off an email with ‘Seriously, Sam’ instead of ‘Sincerely, Sam.’ Good thing was I had the iconic ‘Sent from my iPhone’ automated sign off held responsible for my slip up.
In a way, capitalism saved my ass, and I should see it as a lesson and learn to always sign off an email with the signature from the mobile device it was sent from because you never know when you might make mistakes. You can always blame it on the phone. If I happen to call you Jerk instead of Jack please be informed that’s my autocorrect.
There was one time that I was cc’d into a poorly put together complaining email, elaborately signed ‘Sent from my iPhone 6S Plus’. The receiver wrote back in a more considerate tone. His message was flawless and had ‘Sent from my Samsung Galaxy S7’ at the end of the email. It’s an endless emailing war between two people at the other end using the rival mobile devices in which I was honored to be cc’d into the fight. The sign offs signified they both owned the latest technological devices (at least they’re 6S and S7 at the time I’m writing this) and that the two of them dedicated their private times to attending to this email.
What else is in the numbers? It’s pride in possession for something that can be replaced with a nicer model within 6 months. But the power of Sent from my iPhone is it plays trick with your mind—you can see the Apple logo even if it’s not there (and it glows!)
As an iPhone user I’m constantly torn between keeping the sign off and erasing it. Most times I erase it because I don’t want my message to carry a hidden message that I’m an Apple slave. How about ‘Sent from my Nokia’ for a change?
Like typos and grammar mistakes in an email, I often ‘accidentally’ slept with people I didn’t intended to sleep with. The most recent one was a guy named Josh, a TV journalist from Norway and we used to work and chill together (instead of Netflix and chill). We hadn’t worked and chilled since the devastating earthquake in Kathmandu, Nepal. Last year.
Oh yeah baby. Let’s catch up!
It started with a drink on the rooftop bar in the Banyan Tree hotel and then dinner at an over-priced street food restaurant near Le Bua State Tower and a bar called ‘Smalls’ I happened to mention that it is the place I only take people I want to ‘seal the deal’ with and before I knew it I woke up in his room in a hotel I can’t remember the name of. I checked the water bottle to locate where I was.
I remember that I was thinking about a circus before I passed out during sex. The sent-from-my-iPhone sort of hook up; that extravagant but quick, unsatisfying sex.
I opened my inbox to find an email from an acrobatic performer who performed in the Singapore Night Festival of Light whom I accidentally ran into. Their performance was breathtaking and brilliantly conveyed the message about the survival truths in the world after the apocalypse.
They apologize for the delay and want to know if I’m still interested in interviewing them. “We have been crazy busy.” They wrote. Maybe there’s a reason why I thought about circus the previous night. Josh was still sleeping and I took a chance to reply and tried to repeat the message they sent. Then I lingered at ‘Sent from my iPhone’. I thought briefly about people who are acrobatic performers and I assumed they might not appreciate the capitalism so I deleted it.
The automatic out-of-office was what I received right afterwards. It’s the nature of performers who travel around the world to always be out of office. I was wondering why they even bother to have an office at all. I switched off my phone and Josh opened his eyes. It was the most awkward moment in my life and I felt very awful. I thought about apologizing or do something to make it up for him when he said. “Shit! I have to watch the US presidential debate.” He jumped and turned on CNN.
Journalists can be pedantic. I can’t blame him for being so because it was what I found attractive in the first place. As I was listening to his commentaries—the occasional muttering of the word “bullshit” and “idiot” through the entire debate. I felt the need to offer some sort of clever remarks but the best I could say in my state of needing a hair-of-the-dog was that I would be glad if America elected Trumps as the president because I was looking for a reason to tell people why I wasn’t going to the US to obtain my Master Degree.
Days passed by without hearing back from the acrobatic performer. Josh flew back to China where he’s based. I reviewed the message I sent the morning of the US presidential debate (it’s in the morning in Thailand). There’s no typo but it’s worse. I found that accidentally omitting one word had completely changed my intended meaning.
‘Hey, I am still interested indeed and I totally understand that you guys must have been crazy.’
No ‘Sent from my iPhone’ to back me up. I started to fear this is why I haven’t heard back from them. I searched for their phone number and personally wrote an apology on WhatsApp and hoped they didn’t take it seriously.
‘But this shit is serious,’ said my boss. I was nervous and was on the verge of making an international call.
The damage had been done and I had to live with the growing sense of guilt for days before, eventually, I received a reply from the performer saying ‘No worries and there’s no need to apologize.’ So much for my poor damage controlling skills. Looking back maybe they’re right about there’s no need to apologize, or feeling ashamed for passing out drunk during sex. I don’t need ‘Sent from my iPhone’ or Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton’s verbal masturbation, or any form of capitalism to buy my way out of feeling guilty.
Who knows how worldly Josh is. Maybe a drunken Asian guy is nothing compared to whatever his journalistic career has brought him. In the world of which the word crazy equals normal.