Either I'm invisible or that clerk is holding out for the shift change so that someone else will have to wait on me.
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I’ve never heeded that old advice given to writers: “Write what you know.” If I would have, I’d have run out of column material a long time ago. Why stick to what I know? I've got Google.
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I screamed into the phone, “Stop calling me!” It was a recording.
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I knew it. I'm being watched.
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Mr. Butler Saunder says he’s nervous about emailing me because it could cost him his job. I won’t email him back to say so, but I sincerely hope it does.
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