Reply All: An Email Play

An email play

Francesca Hargrove - Working Mom
Connor Hargrove - Her Kid
Joseph P. Scarborough - Her Boss


-----Original Message-----
From: Francesca. Hargrove @ScarbCom.com
Sent: Friday, November 12, 2004 3:00 PM
To: Joseph.P.Scarborough@ScarbCom.com, ScabbyConnor@aol.com
Subject: The Scampers Cat Food Account

Mr. Scarborough,

I am sorry this is late…but I think you’ll like the news. Scampers Cat Food graduated with flying colors from the focus group trials at the beginning of this week. All 100 subject cats ate with enthusiasm. From Crabcakes to TunaTubes, all flavors were favored. Isn’t that good news? We can now develop the campaign. Art boards and copy will be coming to you shortly for approval. The media plan is still in the think tank with the eggheads, but progressing. Thank you for your patience with the delays on this project. We’ll be catching up this coming week.

Sincerely, Frankie


-----Original Message-----
From: Joseph.P.Scarborough@ScarbCom.com,
Sent: Friday, November 12, 2004 3:07 PM
To: Francesca. Hargrove @ScarbCom.com, ScabbyConnor@aol.com
Subject: Re: The Scampers Cat Food Account

Ms. Hargrove,

Good news indeed…but, to be honest, a day late and a dollar short. You came within a hair’s breadth of blowing it. Very disappointing. Mr. Purrance called and almost pulled the Scampers account not fifteen minutes ago. I had to make a hefty contribution to the local cat pound to appease him and I don’t like cats.

On another subject, may we have a chat, please, in my office in the morning?


-----Original Message-----
From: ScabbyConnor@aol.com
Sent: Friday, November 12, 2004 3:14 PM
To: Francesca. Hargrove @ScarbCom.com, Joseph.P.Scarborough@ScarbCom.com,
Subject: Re: The Scampers Cat Food Account

Hi Mom! Wow. You were right about this guy Scarb. What a dick! A chat on Saturday. Tell him we have plans. And I don’t trust a suit that doesn’t like cats. Probably a reptile lover. ;-) Forked tongue, live mice-eating ones I bet. Want me to key his car?

Anyway, we need cat food. DON’T bring Scampers. It sucks. Pookie will yack it up. She told me. Anyway, your cats in the test group were from the pound and probably starving. They’d have eaten you if they had the chance to get their paws on you. I’m making spaghetti for us tonight. Love ya.

C.

-----Original Message-----
From: Francesca. Hargrove @ScarbCom.com
Sent: Friday, November 12, 2004 3:20 PM
To: ScabbyConnor@aol.com
Subject: Re: The Scampers Cat Food Account

CONNOR! STOP RESPONDING REPLY ALL! I accidentally hit your name on my group list. It’s right above Scarb’s address. I slipped. You were never meant to get it. God help me, he hit Reply All.  Worse, you hit Reply All.  YOU BOTH HIT REPLY ALL!  Scarb read every word. “The dick” is going to fire me for sure now. Start counting your allowance, butthead. We’ll need it for rent.

YOUR SOON TO BE ANNIHILATED,
Mom


-----Original Message-----
From: Joseph.P.Scarborough@ScarbCom.com,
Sent: Friday, November 12, 2004 3:21 PM
To: Francesca. Hargrove @ScarbCom.com, ScabbyConnor@aol.com
Subject: Re: The Scampers Cat Food Account
My comments in red below – “Scarb”

Hi Mom! Wow. You were right about this guy Scarb. What a dick! I am not a dick. But you are “ScabbyConnor” indicating you have an unsightly skin condition and are not one to talk...A chat on Saturday. Tell him we have plans. Yes, plans with me. And you should consider delivering an apology too. And I don’t trust a suit that doesn’t like cats. Oh? You trusted me to employ your mother these 9 months. Probably a reptile lover. ;-) Forked tongue, live mice-eating ones I bet. I happen to raise racing pigeons on the roof of my condo. Cats are a problem for me. Want me to key his car? Ah, the adolescent answer to everything. Want to teepee my oak tree and soap my windows while you are at it?

Anyway, we need cat food. DON’T bring Scampers. It sucks. How do you know? Tried it? Pookie will yack it up. Come on! Cats puke for no reason at all. She told me. I am appalled at your apparent distance from reality. Anyway, your cats in the test group were from the pound and probably starving. Shameful. I didn’t know. Frankie, rerun the focus group. Sounds like the data is flawed. Bring Pookie please. They’d have eaten you if they had the chance to get their paws on you... Maybe that money I threw at Purrance will beef ‘em up a little and they’ll lose their taste for human. Thank you for your observation here. I am still pissed though. I’m making spaghetti for us tonight. Don’t forget the salad. With that complexion, Scabby, you probably need greens. Love ya. Not currently.

C. “Scarb”


-----Original Message-----
From: Francesca. Hargrove @ScarbCom.com
Sent: Friday, November 12, 2004 3:22 PM
To: Joseph.P.Scarborough@ScarbCom.com,
Subject: The Scampers Cat Food Account

Mr. Scarborough,

Please accept my apology for the memo you read from Connor to me. I assure you I do not malign you at home, and Connor used terms I have never dared uttered in your regard. Nor do I feel that way about you. I will see you in the morning for our chat. I will be bringing Connor’s personal apology in writing. And the cats didn’t seem that skinny.

Horrified and tendering my deepest apologies,

Frankie


-----Original Message-----
From: ScabbyConnor@aol.com
Sent: Friday, November 12, 2004 3:30 PM
To: Joseph.P.Scarborough@ScarbCom.com
Cc: Francesca. Hargrove @ScarbCom.com
Subject: Re: The Scampers Cat Food Account

My comments in red below – “Scarb”
My comments in blue below = “Scab”


Hi Mom! Wow. You were right about this guy Scarb. What a dick! I am not a dick. Yes you are. You work my mom to the bone. Since dad left, I never see her in daylight and you want her in on Saturday? Dick! But you are “ScabbyConnor” indicating you have an unsightly skin condition and are not one to talk. Wrong! I made up my screen name when I had the chickenpox. It was the only Connor not already taken. Go figure. I happen to have skin softer than a baby’s butt. A chat on Saturday. Tell him we have plans. Yes, plans with me. And you should consider delivering an apology too. In your dreams. And I don’t trust a suit that doesn’t like cats. Oh? You trusted me to employ your mother these 9 months. Seemed like 9 years. You are an energy vampire and suck the life out of everyone around you. Her head hits the pillow until 3 am and then she’s up working at home just to stay ahead of your demands while you stuff pillows with the molt off your flying rats. Probably a reptile lover. ;-) Forked tongue, live mice-eating ones I bet. I happen to raise racing pigeons on the roof of my condo. Cats are a problem for me. Bird crap is your problem. Want me to key his car? Ah, the adolescent answer to everything. Want to teepee my oak tree and soap my windows while you are at it? Been there. That was me last Halloween.

Anyway, we need cat food. DON’T bring Scampers. It sucks. How do you know? Tried it? Of course. Won a bet. Pookie will yack it up. Come on! Cats puke for no reason at all. Not Pookie. She’s the Queen of all Kitties. Undignified to puke for no reason. She told me. I am appalled at your apparent distance from reality. Back atcha. Anyway, your cats in the test group were from the pound and probably starving. Shameful. I didn’t know. Frankie, rerun the focus group. Sounds like the data is flawed. Bring Pookie please. Only if you invite her on company letterhead. And remove the red M&Ms. She doesn’t accept many invitations. They’d have eaten you if they had the chance to get their paws on you... Maybe that money I threw at Purrance will beef ‘em up a little and they’ll lose their taste for human. Yet your hunger for human subservience is never satisfied. Wow! I’m good. Thank you for your observation here. I am still pissed though. Oh I’m just giddy. Let's get real. I really boofed it here, Scarb, and my mom, once again, gets the brown end of the stick. Since you’ll be firing her tomorrow on my account, I figured I’d go out with a bang, not a whimper. I’m making spaghetti for us tonight. Don’t forget the salad. With that complexion, Scabby, you probably need greens. You’re so packed; you probably need greens more than me. Love ya. Not currently. Too bad. What’s not to like?

C. “Scarb” “Scab”


-----Original Message-----
From: Francesca. Hargrove @ScarbCom.com
Sent: Friday, November 12, 2004 3:32 PM
To: Joseph.P.Scarborough@ScarbCom.com, ScabbyConnor@ aol.com
Subject: The Scampers Cat Food Account

Mr. Scarborough, Connor:

Please stop. Both of you.  For my sake, stop now.

Freaking the hell out, 
Frankie



-----Original Message-----
From: Joseph.P.Scarborough@ScarbCom.com
Sent: Friday, November 12, 2004 3:51PM
To: ScabbyConnor@aol.com
Cc: Francesca. Hargrove @ScarbCom.com
Subject: Re: The Scampers Cat Food Account

My comments in red below – “Scarb”
My comments in blue below = “Scab”
My comments in green below – “Scarb”

Hi Mom! Wow. You were right about this guy Scarb. What a dick! I am not a dick. Yes you are. You work my mom to the bone. Since dad left, I never see her in daylight and you want her in on Saturday? Dick! No I am not. I am a hard worker, I love my job, and I am sometimes unaware that I drive others as hard as myself. This can change. I apologize. But you are “ScabbyConnor” indicating you have an unsightly skin condition and are not one to talk. Wrong! I made up my screen name when I had the chickenpox. It was the only Connor not already taken. Go figure. I happen to have skin softer than a baby’s butt. We have that in common. LOL. A chat on Saturday. Tell him we have plans. Yes, plans with me. And you should consider delivering an apology too. In your dreams. I still deserve one. You are harsh. And I don’t trust a suit that doesn’t like cats. Oh? You trusted me to employ your mother these 9 months. Seemed like 9 years. You are an energy vampire and suck the life out of everyone around you. Her head hits the pillow until 3 am and then she’s up working at home just to stay ahead of your demands while you stuff pillows with the molt off your flying rats. I never knew. She hides it well. Pigeons, by the way, not rats. They are as devoted a pet as a cat. Probably a reptile lover. ;-) Forked tongue, live mice-eating ones I bet. I happen to raise racing pigeons on the roof of my condo. Cats are a problem for me. Bird crap is your problem. Can be. They make a load of it. Want me to key his car? Ah, the adolescent answer to everything. Want to teepee my oak tree and soap my windows while you are at it? Been there. That was me last Halloween. Mystery solved.

Anyway, we need cat food. DON’T bring Scampers. It sucks. How do you know? Tried it? Of course. Won a bet. Oh, I am so playing poker with YOU! Hope you got at least a fiver out of it. Pookie will yack it up. Come on! Cats puke for no reason at all. Not Pookie. She’s the Queen of all Kitties. Undignified to puke for no reason. That has been my experience. She told me. I am appalled at your apparent distance from reality. Back atcha. Cats don’t talk, but pigeons do. See? I can be just as much of a delusional tool as you. Anyway, your cats in the test group were from the pound and probably starving. Shameful. I didn’t know. Frankie, rerun the focus group. Sounds like the data is flawed. Bring Pookie please. Only if you invite her on company letterhead. And remove the red M&Ms. She doesn’t accept many invitations. Done. They’d have eaten you if they had the chance to get their paws on you.. Maybe that money I threw at Purrance will beef ‘em up a little and they’ll lose their taste for human. Yet your hunger for human subservience is never satisfied. Wow! I’m good. A touch, I do confess it!  Um, crap! That’s all the Shakespeare I know. Thank you for your observation here. I am still pissed though. Oh, I’m just giddy. Let's get real. I really boofed it here, Scarb, and my mom, once again, gets the brown end of the stick. Maybe not. I just wanted to talk with her tomorrow to explain that our professional relationship has changed. Scabby, I’ve fallen for her. Hard. Since you’ll be firing her tomorrow on my account, (I’m not) I figured I’d go out with a bang, (You did) not a whimper. (Never a whimper) I’m making spaghetti for us tonight. Don’t forget the salad. With that complexion, Scabby, you probably need greens. You’re so packed; you probably need greens more than me. Nonetheless, may I bring dessert? Rocky road seems appropriate. Love ya. Not currently. Too bad. What’s not to like? My thoughts exactly.


C. “Scarb” “Scab” “Scarb”

-----Original Message----
From: Francesca. Hargrove @ScarbCom.com, ScabbyConnor@aol.com
Sent: Friday, November 12, 2004 4:30 PM
To: Joseph.P.Scarborough@ScarbCom.com,
Subject: The Scampers Cat Food Account

Mr. Scarborough, Joe,

My daughter Connor and I humbly request the pleasure of your company at dinner this evening. Connor is making spaghetti. You may bring dessert. Please do your birds the kindness of leaving them home.

We have a cat.

Love,
Frankie