I Hope This Finds You Dressing Like a Pirate

by | Jun 18, 2020 | Citizen Thoughts | 0 comments

I keep getting messages from companies that begin with some variation of this phrase, “I hope this message finds you well.” As if the company cares if I am well. Let’s face it, they only care if my bank account is well. And if it is, they hope their messages find me willing to part with some of what is in the account that is well. 

I think it’s a weird thing to say. “I hope this finds you well.” It’s like the message was looking high and low for me. As if I’m playing hide and seek from them. “Ahah! We [insert name of random company] found you hiding behind your computer. And now before we pitch this amazing new product that is on sale for today and today only (even though we will put it on sale again next week) we want to know if we have found you well. And safe.” 

So many companies have reached out to know if they have found me well, I’m wondering how much time they still have to make things. Surely all this concern for my well being is cutting into profits. 

Now, I’m not like them. I do hope you’re well, but it seems like a pretty personal thing for me to check on given the fact that we have never hung out, watched a baseball game together, or blown up a watermelon. (Note: my legal advisor says I can’t encourage you to make produce explode. I can tell you, however, that I would watch that in a heartbeat.) 

When I email you, the hope for wellness is implied. What I actually hope my messages find you doing is something fun and remarkable and delightfully pointless. You see, there is so much stress and drama in the world, we all need a release. Something to remind us that the world isn’t completely awful. 

That’s why I say I hope my message finds you: 

  1. Dressing like a pirate. 
  2. Throwing Pop-Tarts like frisbees. 
  3. Yelling “Have a Nice Day” in German to random groups of teenagers who don’t speak German. 
  4. Discussing the Van Halen breakup with your dog.
  5. Putting the dirty socks your teenagers leave in the living room under their pillows. 
  6. Removing the Q from your spouse’s computer. 
  7. Putting the Q back with a contrite look on your face. 

Let’s face it, none of us are “well” these days. I hope this message finds you smiling. Having fun. And detonating produce.

Carry on, Citizens!