Target, Excel and shovel
Target understands me. Target understands me a little too well, but wants me to spend time with him anyway. Target knows that I need tools for home repair, and pretty pots for my plants, and thank you notes for my kind friends. Even when I think that I don't need anything from Target, Target has been watching me, and thinking about what I might need, and if I would like it in bright summery colors. My dream man would pay as much attention to figuring me out as Target does.
Honestly, I don't know how anyone could be as patient and smart as Excel. My conversations with Excel go like this:
Me: Honey, could you please go get that data from those lookup tables I told you about, and then perform several difficult operations on it, and then present it to me in this lovely summary table?
Excel: Sure, babe. Happy to.
Me: Oh shoot! I meant, could you please do these other things to it?
Excel: No problem. Anything for you, babe.
Me: And do you think you could suggest a way to try this other thing I was thinking of?
Excel: Already on it - this might work...
Me: Thanks! You're the best. How about tonight I write a special little macro for you...
I spent a while digging out my side yard this summer and ended up real impressed with my shovel. You know, my shovel doesn't pretend to be anything he isn't. He doesn't multi-task; he knows what he is good at. My shovel is always game. My shovel is ready for yardwork whenever I am. And when all I want to do is lounge around reading, my shovel is happy relaxing on the porch.
Now, I know that hundreds of personyears have gone into perfecting Target, Excel and shovel, and only thirtyish personyears have gone into perfecting you. I understand that these are very demanding specs. But if you tried, I swear I would appreciate your efforts. And I would make an effort of my own. Send me your retailers, programs or implements, and I'll let you know if I'm the smart, pretty, funny girl you are looking for.
this is in or around Midtown