That’s what our insurance representative, “Pineapple” Wang, here in China says to us in every email. She is generally requesting money for a household contents policy but it put me in a quandary about whether to ask her what the heck she means. Is she sorry to disturb me? Interrupt me? Or does she sincerely think the premium too high? I stopped signing my own name to the emails since she never addressed me, the signer, only Mr. Understanding. Today I finally asked her what that phrase means, using Mr. Understanding’s name. I got no reply, just a “thanks for your email”. Mystery unsolved.
This is a big question, to correct someone’s English or to let them persist in a faulty phrase. My rule of thumb has been to correct those who correct my Spanish/Portuguese/Mandarin. But sometimes I let it slide, like with V3, my driver. He always says, “You know my means?”. I thought I was the only one who had noticed it but a few months ago Bea Long said it to me and we both burst out giggling: it is V3’s verbal tic alone and I am loathe to correct him since I think it’s so cute. I am sure he laughs all the way home about something I’ve said, something like telling him to put the hand towel outside instead of the cat (both are mao’s). For this reason, I never said the word “comb’ in Spanish because it was too close to a certain word for the male anatomy. I would just make swooshing movements over my or my children’s hair.
Thing 2 was particularly vile to me earlier in the day and I was sorry I had to break him. I used some techniques not even my own mother employed with me. Not waterboarding exactly, but close enough. What is it about December that brings out bad behavior, the exact opposite of the joy the month is meant to engender? I have a lovely note of apology from him which I think I will frame and bring out every Christmas instead of putting coal in his stocking. I am a tough mother to have but still …
For those stuck in snow storms, maybe it is a blessing in disguise. You get to read my blog when the internet is not out! Joy of joys! The Children’s Story Book Party starts in 10 minutes so I must run. Can you guess who’ll be cleaning up? More tomorrow before we fake it at the Catholic church in the evening. God Bless.