In sixth grade I spent countless hours on the phone with my best friend. I called her so many times that, to this day, I still remember her telephone number. I also remember her cold-as-ice father answering the phone sometimes....
"Hi Mr. Bestfriend!" I would chirp politely, "This is [Snark], may I please speak with Bestie?"
"Dr. Bestfriend," he would correct me. He was an opthalmalogist.
Even at 11, I knew he was a ridiculous pompous ass and was kind of embarrassed for him that he was so proud of his title that he couldn't let the occasional "Mister" go.
We are currently negotiating the sale of our house. The potential buyers just sent us, through their broker, an infuriating letter presenting and justifying their final, painfully low offer.
My husband keeps reminding me not to take it personally and I'm doing my best. But I refuse to overlook the extreme lameness of their signing their letter "Doctors X and Y Smith."
Are you kidding me? Assuming we proceed with this deal and it goes smoothly (fingers crossed!), it will take every ounce of self-restraint I have to make it through the closing without referencing and ripping them for that.
All the best,
Weaselsnark, Esquire
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