Dear PR account exec,
I don't want to be pernickety, but you know what? It's one of those days, so I'm going to (for reasons that will become clear at the foot of this post). Just a couple of pointers on how to address a mummy blogger who's had more than one or two e-mails from people in your profession;
1. Do not start your e-mail to me by saying 'Hiya'. I will ignore you on principal. That is all.
2. Some form of salutation is preferred, however. Launching straight into your press release without even bothering to put 'Dear Potty Mummy (acceptable), 'Hi there' (must you?), or even 'Hiya'(god forbid) makes me suspect that I'm not the only mummy blogger on your distribution list.
3. Do take note of where I am geographically located. Offering to come to my 'office' (aka dining room table) to talk me through your latest dream product is all well and good but if your office is in central London, somehow I don't think trotting out to suburban Moscow is quite what you had in mind. That is why 'Moscow, Russia' is only the 2nd fact that appears on the 'About Me' section at the top of the sidebar....
4. Don't chase me. If I want to use something you send me, I'll let you know - promise. Pleading follow-up e-mails will only make me feel guilty and then I'll have to dodge your subsequent notes too, and you'll worry why I'm not getting back to you and so you'll send more and then I'll have to hide behind an 'out of office' curtain when you drop by and oh, it'll all be too sad and our relationship will be over.
Yours, a ranty Mummy Blogger with clearly too much time on her hands.
Dear Dentist,
It would be nice if, when I raise my hand as a sign of protest (as you suggested I should if the pain gets too bad) whilst you do your worst on my teeth with your fiendish machines, you take notice, and actually stop. Or was that just something you said to make me feel I have some control of what's going on when really, I don't? (Raises hand frantically in the air)
Yours, (mumble dribble ow) PM.
Dear Well Woman Clinic Nurse
OK. It's only 5 kilos, I know that. Not much more than the weight of a full-term baby, I get it. But when you ask my weight for the records and I tell you a figure that is 5 kilos less than the one you recorded on my last visit, you could at least sound a little impressed. Oh, and deciding that the visit I scheduled in for a general check-up is a good time to throw in an unexpected smear test? Nice. ( A woman needs to steel herself for things like that, you know...)
Yours, (so thin these days that if I turned sideways you might miss me) PM.
Dear Skinny Girl in Well Woman Clinic
Announcing your weight at the top of your voice to the nurse so that all the other patients could hear it is not impressing any of us. Especially, it is not impressing those of us who have just had the news of our recent weight loss ignored by the same nurse, and especially especially when the weight we have just reached - which is, by the way, the lowest we have tipped the scales at since before becoming pregnant with our first child - is still 11 kilos more than the figure you just shouted across the surgery.
Yours, (pass me that chocolate I need to console myself) PM.
Dear Diary,
letting me schedule in a smear test and a trip to the dentist on the same afternoon; WTF were you thinking????
Yours, the bad-tempered mummy blogger with the hurty teeth and...
