Not Standing Still

Weren’t we just talking about the Cult of Mary?

What a riot!

Now, first off, you must know that Mary, as a former newspaper person, is kind of leery about this interview-and-photograph business. It’s fun to have your moment, but it’s usually fleeting. Shop Boy?

Bouncing down the hallway, reading the story out loud from the rooftop, singing, dancing and carrying on. Irresponsibly giddy.

What, you expected a calm reaction? You must be new around here.

Secondly, we can spell “stationery.”

Sigh. It happens. Shop Boy’s made his share of such gaffes.

True story: I had just begun a tryout with the Boston Herald when my prospective boss, George O’Mullakoupo’suarezenawicz (OK, I’m making that up), called me into his office. He said he had wanted to meet the idiot who misspelled that name on an application for a copy editing position. I mean, who wouldn’t double-check such a thing? Meaning, of course, that the whole reason George had invited me to come was so he could belittle me for a week, privately and publicly.

(I had checked, by the way, calling the newspaper three separate times for the spelling. Even there, no one could spell the dude’s name.)

Well, three days into our belittling session, Shop Boy had, ahem, convinced George that he should hire me anyway. By then, though, I was spelling his name J-E-R-K. No thank you, sir.

But enough about me.

Shop Boy’s a huge fan of Mary. So, onward and upward! I want people to notice her work. I want her to be famous. I want her to be cool. I want her to be president. I want her to finish this holiday-rush stuff so that we can take a weekend off.

First things first, I guess: For the moment, Mary’s famous.

And Shop Boy can’t stop smiling.

See, it’s not just that Shop Boy’s alter ego is a member of the liberal, elitist, muckraking, sensationalist media. I really believe that, for a little business like ours, any press is good press.

Just spell the name right …

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