I was totally wrong.
Rejection is some serious suckage. That, I was right about.
But there IS something even worse than being rejected by not being rejected at all.
And that would be…being rejected with the WRONG NAME.
That magazine I submitted the little holiday essay to back earlier in the month?
Yeah, they responded.
By replying to my original email to them (key words there…make a note), the magazine let me know they chose a winner.
Not me…but that is completely not the point here.
Here’s what I got:
Wacky, crazy stuff there.
The ASSOCIATE EDITOR replied to my original email to them (see…told you to make a note) and started it with: Dear Kelly.
Who the hell is Kelly?
Anyway. I couldn’t resist not replying. I mean, now it’s game on.
(And don’t get me wrong. I’m not ticked. Not sad. Not even perturbed. More like bored and feel it is my civic duty as a magazine reading American citizen to step up and bring forth the something or other they rightly deserve to know about.)
(I mean, really? Two out of two replies I get and they are BOTH jacked?)
FROM. A. MAGAZINE?
Completely begging for a reply, if you ask me. And well, even if you don’t.
I wanted it more catty than bitchy.
Call out the dogs.
I wanted my catty map to land me just at the intersection of you-are-a-total-jack-job boulevard and wow-you-must-be-so-busy-you-can’t-read-right-and-I-feel-bad-for-you-kinda-but-not-really avenue.
I couldn’t resist. Straight-up begging:
Thank you for the reply.
I was tickled to get the following notice (from a magazine) on receiving my submission on 10/06 at 9:21 p.m.:
thank you we will choosing the submission to publish next week.
And now I get your email addressed to “Kelly” when I’m Carrie.
It makes me feel better knowing I’m not the only one already feeling the rush of the upcoming holiday season!
Not too much, huh?
I didn’t think so either.
I really wanted to sign it “Love, Kelly” but felt that would possibly cause some serious mass confusion that is probably not needed right now.
On either of our parts.
(But apparently, someone else has already caused them some serious mass confusion.)
But well, it IS the time of the year to be thankful.
How do I know? I mean, besides it being Thanksgiving and all?
So, I’m going to be thankful. Right here. Right now.
I am thankful I am not telling you I was ON A DATE and he called me Kelly.
Sweet mother, don’t even try to imagine. Just thinking about it makes me dizzy.
(And Kelly. Whoever she is.)