Thank You Notes

Southern people do all sorts of weird things.  And yet, they don't think the things they do are strange, because they grew up in the middle of a strange-acting place thinking they were normal.  

Now, as you may know, I am married to a southern lady.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  Sometimes though, these weird southern behaviors become a real pain in my ass when I am expected to do them, and act as though I think they're perfectly normal.  

Among the weirdest of these practices, and one I seriously hate, is writing thank-you notes for everything.  In my book, if someone saves your life, that deserves a thank-you note.  If someone sends you a gift for your baby, not so much.  I would say a friendly email would suffice.  But god-all-fucking-mighty forbid that a thank-you note does not get written.  That would be a serious snub, and talked about in hushed, scandalous tones at the gun show.  

So why am I all bent out of shape about this?  Well, I'll tell you why.  When I started working in the trading industry right after college, aged 23, I worked on the trading floor of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange.  Among my duties was to be on a headset--I looked like a helicopter pilot--with one of the craziest motherfuckers I have ever come across.  He was a broker who worked for my boss.  My boss would tell me what to have the broker do, and I would relay the message.  The broker was across the trading floor, I could see him, so even though he wouldn't acknowledge me half the time, I could see him work the order I gave him.  Sounds not so bad, but when hundreds of thousands of dollars are on the line and you're 23 and have a negative net worth that sure seems like a lot of money and things can get a little hectic.

Well, on one of my first days wearing this headset, I guess I fucked something up.  The broker I was on the line with went absolutely apeshit.  He was a good 200 feet across the room from me, but I could see his face turn bright red--it matched his trading jacket--and he started berating me over the headset, though he was screaming loud enough that I could hear him across the room, as could the thousand other people standing around listening to me get verbally raped.  He continued on his tirade for at least a minute, and the icing on the cake was "If you ever make a fuck-up like that again I will fucking come over there and fucking kill you."  And as the "fucking kill you" came out of his mouth, he pulled a huge knife out of his pocket and waved it my direction.  Nice, normal psychopath.  

The great thing about the trading industry is that if you're smart and good at what you do, you advance at a rate that seems ludicrous to people outside the business.  The broker and I established a pretty good working relationship, and the last two years that I worked at my former firm I was his boss.  Anyway, he is a really good dude, and today in the mail we got a package of baby gifts from him and his wife.  Very nice of them.  

"You need to write them a thank-you note, hun" says my wife.

Are you fucking kidding me?  I'm going to write an Emily Post-esque thank-you note to a guy who once threatened to kill me?  

"Yes, its the only decent thing to do."

So I guess I'm writing a thank-you note.  I have twenty bucks that says it makes the rounds at my former office.  I can see it now:

Dear Bill and Mary, [lots of grins]

We were excited to receive Alexandra's package in the mail today. [FAG!]  Thank you so much for your sweet gift. [FAG!]  She looks so cute in her onesy, and pink is a great color on her. [Dying laughing: onesy? Pink? Great color? FAG FAG FAG!] It was so thoughtful of you to send her such a nice gift--I hope you're able to meet her soon. [Well, I hope she's not as big a FAG! as her dad!]  This is going to suck...

I've just devised a counter-plan though.  Every time someone does something that my wife says merits a thank-you note (Dear Mailman, Thank you for only fucking up our mail 74 days this past year...) I am going to demand that she takes two shots of tequila.  Seems ridiculous, honey?  Well that's just how its done in Botswana, its only decent, I just don't know what to tell you.  Guess you weren't raised right!  If someone sends you a gift, you pound tequila.  Everyone knows that.  You can even mention it in the thank-you note if you'd like.