When I was a kid, my

mom got me a t-shirt

with a big S on it.

***

Excited, I put it on,

ran outside and spent

the sum of the

afternoon pretending I

was the Samsung corp.

***

“One VCR coming up!”

I’d say, making a sale.

***

When the mailman came,

I pretended to type up

a service agreement.

***

“One moment, please”

I said,

tap, tap, tapping away at

my make-believe typewriter,

stamping it,

signing both copies,

handing him his.

***

“And if there

are any problems,

you can reach me

at this number,

day or night,” I said,

pointing to

the number six.

***

When my mom heard this,

she came outside and

explained that, actually

the “S” on the t-shirt

stood for Superman, not Samsung.

***

“Ahh, Superman,” I said,

leaning back in my chair,

feet up on the desk.

“I think I may have to

loop my supervisor in on this.”

.

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