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How I Got My Job on the Internet

My grandmother swore by "Dear Maybe" back in the day when people read hard copy newspapers. Dear Maybe was one of those advice to the lovelorn columnists. She gave advice to lovesick people just like doctors hand out pills to patients.

Grandma wrote to her one day when she was about 72, I guess. She followed Dear Maybes advice to a T when she divorced grandpa and ran off with the true love of her life, a used car salesman. We looked for grandma for ten years and gave up.

Our community is advanced. We get our advice on the Internet from our own "Dear Blabby". She doesn't limit her advice to the lovelorn; she'll answer any question you throw at her as long as it doesn't involve religion or politics. She has scruples, that's for sure.

Dear Blabby knows everything. Once a woman wrote to Dear Blabby about her children and their bad manners. That didn't faze Dear Blabby, she advised the woman to send the boys to military school and the girls off to a private finishing school.

It worked out real well for the children, but the woman ended up being shunned by her kids because of her common attitude and manners. You have to call it a success story though, because the kids eventually became prosperous. The mother? We don't know what happened to her.

Then one day, it finally happened. It was my turn to write to Dear Blabby.

I logged on to her website and here's the letter I posted with a trembling hand:

Dear Blabby,

I've read your website advice blog for five years now and I never thought I would be the one writing to you for advice, but here I am with a problem.

It all started when Earl (that's my husband) bought a milk cow. As you know, people don't drink whole milk anymore because of its fat content, so we decided to make butter. Then we had to buy new equipment and after that two more cows and then a bigger barn.

Earl said he needed a speedboat then so he could rush the fresh butter to market on the other side of the lake. I didn't object because he said I could be in charge of butter production while he was at the market. I never was a boss before, so I said yes.

Last week a big tornado came along and blew all three cows out of the pasture and the barn too. Earl was on his way to market with the butter at the time so I went looking to see where the cows landed. Well, they landed in Mr. Neely's pasture and now he claims they belong to him.

Earl hasn't been home since the storm so I can't ask him.

Blabby, my question is this: how do I prove those cows belong to me?

I'm logging off now, but I'll be checking your website often to see your reply to me. I hope it will be soon because when the barn blew away, it landed in the lake and now I'm about to be sued for water pollution.

I'm leaving my email address for you, Dear Blabby and hoping to hear from you soon!

The next day I received this message from the Dear Blabby website: Dear Blabby is no longer with us and the website will be back online when we find a suitable replacement.

I did the only thing I could do then. I applied for Dear Blabby's old job.

Is there a problem I can help you with? Just log on to DearBlabby.com and I'll send a reply by email.

Learn more about this author, Mona Gallagher.
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