He finally ended up at Michigan State and fell in with a bad crowd—you know the sorts I mean: writers . . . artists . . . democrats. He didn’t even join a fraternity. I was as surprised as anybody when he decided to go to law school instead of joining the Peace Corps or becoming a mime or something.

Of course, when he graduated, Dad offered him a job with the firm—familial loyalty, and all of that. But would you believe Mitch had the nerve to turn it down? The guy spent four years working as a public defender (!) before finally agreeing to come work for Dad—but not until the old guy was on his deathbed . . . or thought he was, anyway, since he’s apparently doing fine now, given that he never seems to come in off the links.

Anyway, I can’t say spending all that time with murderers and drug addicts did Mitch’s disposition any good.

But he’s a damned good lawyer. So you can quit worrying and meet me for lunch at Lespinasse, as we planned. I can’t wait to gaze into those sparkling eyes of yours over a glass of Cristal . . . I hope they’re still shining as brightly as that diamond on your finger. . . .

Yours, as ever,

Stuart

Stuart Hertzog, Senior Partner

Hertzog Webber and Doyle, Attorneys at Law

444 Madison Avenue, Suite 1505

New York, NY 10022

212-555-7900


To: Stuart Hertzog <stuart.hertzog@hwd.com>

Fr: Amy Jenkins <amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com>

Re: Mitchell Hertzog

Oh, Stuart, that’s so sweet! I knew you’d take care of it. Thank you so much!

And don’t worry about that stuff with your brother. We all have family members we’d prefer to have little to do with. I myself have both a sister and a brother I’m not exactly looking forward to introducing to you. And my parents—well, I won’t get into that.

But there are some family members of mine I’m dying for you to get to know—my Pi Delt sisters! I just know you’re going to love them—they’re really a swell group of gals. A bunch of us are meeting at the Monkey Bar after work . . . PLEASE say you’ll stop by so I can show you off to them. I can’t wait for you to meet them!

Looking forward to our lunch . . . and to proving to you that my eyes are still shining just as brightly as they were last night. . . .

Amy

Amy Denise Jenkins

Director

Human Resources

The New York Journal

216 W. 57th Street

New York, NY 10019

212-555-6890

amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com

This e-mail is intended only for the use of the individual to which it is addressed and may contain information that is privileged and confidential. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that you have received this transmission in error; any review, dissemination, distribution, or copying of this transmission is prohibited. If you have received this communication in error, please notify us immediately by reply e-mail and delete this message and all of its attachments.

From the Desk of

Amy D. Jenkins

Mrs. Stuart Hertzog

Mrs. S. A. Hertzog

Mrs. Amy Denise Hertzog

Jenkins-Hertzog

Mrs. Jenkins-Hertzog

Mrs. Amy Jenkins-Hertzog

Mrs. A. D. Jenkins-Hertzog

Stuart, Amy, Heath, and Annabelle Hertzog

 

Heath Hertzog

no

Connor Hertzog

Annabelle Hertzog

Connor Jenkins-Hertzog

Annabelle Jenkins-Hertzog

Mr. and Mrs. Stuart Jenkins-Hertzog

Amy Denise Jenkins

Director

Human Resources

The New York Journal

216 W. 57th Street

New York, NY 10019

212-555-6890

amy.jenkins@nyjournal.com


To: Kate Mackenzie <kathleen.mackenzie@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Re: OH MY GOD

SO????????? WHAT HAPPENED??????

J


To: Jen Sadler <jennifer.sadler@thenyjournal.com>

Fr: Kate Mackenzie <kathleen.mackenzie@thenyjournal.com>

Re: OH MY GOD

I don’t know. It’s the weirdest thing. I went into the T.O.D.’s office, and she was . . . doodling. And humming. Doodling and humming, almost like . . .

Like a human being!

She seemed surprised to see me—like she’d forgotten about the whole thing. I asked her about the letter, and she just went, “Oh, that’s Stuart’s brother. He’ll be representing the paper in the arbitration.” Then she SHOWED ME HER RING!

I’m not kidding. She went, “I thought I should tell you before you heard it through the departmental grapevine . . . Stuart Hertzog and I are engaged.”

Then she waved that massive rock—you were right, it IS three carats, she told me—under my nose and went, “Oh, Kate! I’m so happy!” in this very weird voice. Almost like she knows she SHOULD be happy, so she’s determined to ACT happy. You know what I mean?

I didn’t know what to do—genuflect and kiss the stupid thing, or just say congratulations—so I just said congratulations and got the hell out of there.

Oh my God, I still feel unclean. I think I’ll need a bacon cheeseburger for lunch before I feel like myself again.

Kate

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Okay, now THAT is weird.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Are you crazy? Quit I.M.-ing me, she’s gonna catch us.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Hello, you said she was doodling. And HUMMING. Doodling, humming, newly engaged bosses do not pay attention when their employees are I.M.-ing. So did you ask if she’s taking his name?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

No, of course not.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

She will. I can’t WAIT to address my first employee action form to Amy Hertzog. Oh my God, it is going to be great. OH MY GOD, IF THEY HAVE KIDS, THEY’LL BE HERTZOGS TOO!!!!!!!!!

Sleaterkinneyfan:

You so know if she has a boy she’ll name it Connor. It’s like the number-one most popular name for boys right now, and God knows, Amy has to do whatever’s popular.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Totally. And if it’s a girl, it will be Annabelle. ANNABELLE HERTZOG!!!

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Stop it. The guy can’t help what his last name is.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Um, hello, he so can. You think my last name is really Sadler? No, it was Sadlinsokov, until my ancestors got to Ellis Island and wisely shortened it.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

I think Sadlinsokov sounds nice. It has character.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

So . . . admit it. Things are getting good around here. You don’t want to quit anymore, do you?

Sleaterkinneyfan:

For what they made me do to Mrs. Lopez? Yes, I do.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Oh, right. And miss out on all this fun? I know—after lunch, let’s ask the T.O.D. if that’s a hickey on her neck. 10 to 1 she’ll say it’s a bruise from the gym.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

You’re on. But YOU ask. I did it last time.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Deal. Winner buys the bacon cheeseburgers.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

Oh, all right.

Sleaterkinneyfan:

logged off

Sleaterkinneyfan:

logged off

Hi, you’ve reached the desk of Kathleen Mackenzie. I’m sorry I’m not able to take your call. I’m either on the other line, or away from my desk at the moment. At the tone, please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you!

(Tone)

Katie, it’s me. Dale. Listen. I got your message. Katie, I know we can work things out, if you’ll just give me another chance. I mean, I’m not saying I can change or anything, but I promise—I mean, it isn’t like there’s another girl, or anything. I mean, well, you know, there’s lots of girls, we’re a pretty popular band. There are girls around all the time. But there’s no special girl. I mean, more special than you. Aw, come on, Katie. You know I’m doing the best I can. But I’m just not the standing-up-in-church-in-a-tux-in-front-of-everyone-and-declaring-my-eternal-love-for-a-woman kind of guy. And you know it! I mean, is that the kind of guy you fell in love with back in Kentucky? Was it? No, it wasn’t. So cut me a little slack, will ya? And come home. I really miss you. Also, I can’t find my Clash T-shirt. Did you take it to the laundry-by-the-pound place? Because it’s like—

(Click)

Hi, you’ve reached the desk of Kathleen Mackenzie. I’m sorry I’m not able to take your call. I’m either on the other line, or away from my desk at the moment. At the tone, please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you!

(Tone)

Kate, hi, it’s Dolly. Listen, sweetie, there’s been some sort of misunderstanding. Well, not a misunderstanding, exactly. It’s just that the new fax boy . . . Well, he and I ended up in what I believe is called a

contretemps

. . . at least in

Bazaar

it is . . . and I’m afraid he might have gotten the wrong idea. And the truth is, darling, I honestly thought he was interested, but apparently, he plays for the other team—I can’t imagine what happened, I used to be so good at telling them apart. Anyway, I think he’s going to file some sort of a . . . What’s it called again, Nadine? Oh, yes, sexual harassment suit against me. But honestly, darling, my hand just slipped. . . . Oh well, anyway. Call me. Maybe we can do lunch tomorrow, and talk. Ciao!