Damn You, Mr. Krueger

Some things are like scar tissue. They never go away. Four years ago, a very VERY nice lady where I work was dying. My manager at the time, with whom I was very friendly and to whom I cracked many a cheesy joke, sent out an email to the department regarding this nice lady's current state of health, and it wasn't good. The email went something like this: "Please keep Ms. Krooger in your prayers. She isn't expected to live through the weekend." We had been getting regular updates throughout her illness and this was expected, but still a horrible shock to read in an email. So I replied to my manager "Any relation to Freddy Krueger?"


Four minutes later, a coworker and friend yelled "DUDE! YOU SENT THAT TO EVERYONE!!!!" I had hit Reply To All when I replied to my manager. I frantically attempted to recall the email and managed to retrieve about a third of them. But the bulk of the department had already opened the email.

Nothing was ever said to me. I think it was too despicable an event to ever be spoken of again. Though once every three or four months, that friend in the office sends me an email "Any relation to Freddy Krueger?" Making sure I'll never forget. As if I'd ever.