Heap Big Typos

I find these tidbits from my parents' lives to be hilarious. Maybe you will too.

My mom went to trial today. No, she's not a criminal. She is fighting the good fight to receive payment for medical expenses from an injury she suffered on the job. It's a pain, because the insurance company is suffering from a severe case of pedalo-impedimentia.... also known as "dragging of the feet."

Anyway, at the Riverside County Courthouse, my parents saw this sign emblazoned on the entry to a court parking lot:

"No In & Out Priviledges."

Now, there is something very wrong with that sign. I searched long and hard to figure out what a priviledge is. But alas, nobody knows. I thought that it might be a "private ledge," but that doesn't make much sense in context. No in and out private ledges?

It is with great sadness that I have to opt for the following [and more depressing] alternative. What the Riverside County Government meant was that there were no in and out immunities/right-of-ways on this particular lot, but that they forgot how to spell "privilege."

Lord save us if these are the people who have been set in place to litigate our cases and protect our rights.

The second stupid-but-funny happening came in the form of a letter to my father at his workplace. If you don't know, my dad is the Risk Manager for San Manuel Indian Reservation, a wealthy tribe which runs one of the biggest casinos in the state [among other things].

Anyway, Myron, Inc., [reportedly the leader in personalized business gifts] thought that they would try and get my father's business with a sample personalized day planner. This is what they sent him.



There were a few problems with their pitch. First of all, this mail should have been sent to HR, not Risk Management. My dad has a job which deals with disgruntled employees, not a job which tries to make them happy with shallow truisms like "Teamwork: together we can achieve the extraordinary."

Secondly, the letter was addressed to "Ms. Risk Management." My dad's name is not Risk, it's Gregg. And for the last time, he's not a WOMAN!

To explain my frustration with this common misconception, I must go back some years. In the late '90s, somewhere deep in the bowels of the junk mail industry, someone decided to re-christen my father with the middle name "Lynn." And, oddly, it has stuck so well that almost all advertisements coming to my house are addressed to "Mr. Gregg Lynn _____." My dad doesn't need to be given the title of "Ms." on top of Lynn. His gender has been confused enough by these dimwits already.

The final nail in the coffin for this day planner company was that they put a new company name on the front of the sample planner that they sent to Ms. Risk Manager:



Maybe they thought that there was something wrong with the current title, "San Manuel Mission Indians." It is always a risky venture to change the name of your company, but to change the name of someone else's company [without consultation] is an all-around bad move.

But it is no worse than changing a man's name, as the junk mail industry has done with my father. Maybe he can now look forward to a whole new wave of junk mail, addressed to "Ms. Risk Lynn Management, of San Manuel Mission Industry." And, knowing my dad, he will patiently and quietly file all of this mail away...

in the trash can.

Thank you, Myron.

[we CAN achieve the extraordinary]