Congrats on the whole wedding thing. I’m sure you two will be happy. And I didn’t mean it about the bulimia thing. Much.
Mitch
P.S. Have you told Mom yet? I wouldn’t know, see, on account of how Mom’s still not speaking to me over the whole Janice thing. So if you’re hoping to make her regret ever giving birth to me by telling her all the mean things I said about your girlfriend, too bad.
She already does.
Hate me, I mean.
To: Mitchell Hertzog <mitchell.hertzog@hwd.com>
Fr: Stuart Hertzog <stuart.hertzog@hwd.com>
Re: Ida Lopez
Your congratulations are accepted.
P.S. Stop calling me Stuie!
Stuart Hertzog, Senior Partner
Hertzog Webber and Doyle, Attorneys at Law
444 Madison Avenue, Suite 1505
New York, NY 10022
212-555-7900
To: Stacy Trent <IH8BARNEY@freemail.com>
Fr: Mitchell Hertzog <mitchell.hertzog@hwd.com>
Re: You’ll never believe this one:
Stuie’s getting married.
Mitch
P.S. No, this is not a joke.
To: Amy Jenkins <amy.jenkins@thenyjournal.com>
Fr: Stuart Hertzog <stuart.hertzog@hwd.com>
Re: Mitchell Hertzog
Don’t worry, Amy. It’s all taken care of. I spoke to my brother, and he’s offered us his congratulations. Everything is going to be fine. Mitch just has some issues, because I’m the oldest and—frankly—the best liked by our parents of the four of us kids. That kind of thing can eat away at a person—well, you know that, being in the field you’re in. My sisters—well, my sister Stacy, anyway—have handled it better than Mitch. He has never really lived up to his potential—he has a 165 IQ, but he got lousy grades in school, and didn’t even bother to apply to any good colleges. In fact, he took a year off between high school and college and just roamed aimlessly around the globe, managing to spend his entire two-hundred-thousand-dollar share of the inheritance from our grandfather. I have a feeling he gave most of it away to the Dalai Lama, or some other loser.
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.