“Oh yes, I have that email address for Mike. It's [email protected].”

“TO: [email protected] god! Oh god! Oh shit! I have just sent the email I was meant to send to you, slagging off Meryl to Meryl by mistake. Damn this email invention.”

“Every morning I called Aeroflot to ask about my suitcase. "Oh, it's you," sighed the clerk. "Yes, I have your request right here. Address: Yasnaya Polyana, Tolstoy's house. When we find the suitcase we will send it to you. In the meantime, are you familiar with our Russian phrase *resignation of the soul*?”

“if it's not in my email archive, I don't know it”

“The One.” Mike declared and Merry’s brows shot up.“The One?” Merry asked.“The One.” Mike confirmed. “In a weekend?” Merry asked.“In a weekend,” Mike confirmed.“No shit?” Merry whispered.“Absolutely no fuckin’ shit,” Mike answered.Merry whistled. Then he smiled. Then he repeated, “Good for you, man.”“Oh yeah,” Mike muttered.”

“A fun thing to do to let off steam after layoffs began was to go into someone's office and send an email from their computer addressed to the entire agency. It might say something simple like "My name is Shaw-NEE! You are captured, Ha! I poopie I poopie I poopie." People came in in the morning and their reaction was so varied. Jim Jackers read it and immediately sent out an email that we read, "Obviously someone come into my office last night and compossed an email in my name and sent it out to everyone. I apologise for any inconvenience or offence, although it wasn't my fault, and I would appreciate from whoever did this a public apology. I have read that email five times now and I still don't understand it.”