TOO MANY MARSHALLS

After two years away from the work force, I finally landed an advertising job with a major architectural coatings organization that is part of a larger billion-dollar conglomerate. I am slowly becoming reacclimatized to the general inefficiency of a large-scale organization. A prime example: two weeks ago I received a dubious email from a mysterious benefactor named "XMS Report Team". Ignoring the general wisdom that dictates why one never answers an email from an unknown source, I opened it anyway. I was disheartened to find that no PC leveling, super virus was attached, but, rather, there was a lengthy discourse explaining that I owed a large sum of money.
Dear Mr. Marshall,
I have enclosed your billing statement for your Corporate American Express Card Account. You currently owe a balance of $1,795.75. Payment is expected within the next five business days to avoid cancellation of the account. Please review the contact information below to determine if any errors are present in our current records. If you have any further problems, please contact me at 1-800-555-1111 between the hours of 9AM-5PM Eastern Standard Time.
XMS Report Team
The problem? I do not have a Corporate American Express card.
I looked at the billing information, and was amazed to find that the only thing right about the entire statement was that they spelled my name correctly. The other information belonged to someone else. I decided to investigate. As it turns out, there are 17 people with my last name in the company worldwide. I looked through my trusty address book, and noted a Joe Marshall, whose base of operations matched the person on the bill.
I was also a little bit concerned about someone who would designate him/herself with a personal pronoun like "I" in the body of a paragraph, yet later refer to him/herself as part of a "team" in the closing of the letter. I sent back the following email:
Dear Mr. or Ms. XMS Report Team,
I believe you have me confused with someone else. You sent me the following report, yet I do not have an XMS Account. In fact, if you check the global address book in Outlook, you'll see that the information you sent is for someone who works at the Mt. Zion location named Joe Marshall. I am John Marshall. I just began working at the General Office in downtown Pittsburgh, and do not yet have an Amex card.
Thanks,
John Marshall, x2057
Thinking I had adequately dealt with the situation, I returned to work.
Fifteen minutes later, the following email arrived:
Dear Mr. Marshall,
We do not understand what you are saying or who Joe Marshall is. We do know that you owe $1,795.75 on your XMS Account. Please review the following information, and make your payment as soon as possible to avoid cancellation of your account.
XMS Report Team
This began to seriously scare me. First off, Mr./Ms. XMS Report Team was no longer a singular entity. Now he/she had abandoned taking ownership of his/her thoughts by no longer designating him/herself as an "I", and was now definitively part of a hive-collective known as "we". Did it suddenly require multiple people to misconstrue what I had just written only moments ago? Or, perhaps they worked in highly ineffective support teams-- one to not comprehend a simple letter, and another to write a response about said lack of comprehension. Independently, they are worthless. But together they form a mighty force of galactic, cubicle-bound stupidity-- kind of like an inept office version of Voltron.
Either that or I was now dealing with some kind of schizophrenic account manager-- a sad, insane office ape who had been driven mad by the tedium of too many overcharged accounts and people named Marshall. His/her only recourse to continue functioning at a passable level was to separate into two (or more) separate psyches, and refer to him/herself as "we" when confronted by an actual response that pointed out his/her fallibility as supreme billing monkey.
To make matters worse, the information at the bottom was now for a "Jack Marshall"; another person I did not know. So, what happened to Joe Marshall? Did he ever exist at all? As my mind churned the possibilities, I began to question my own existence. Maybe I was really Joe Marshall. Perhaps Joe was my answer to the drudgery of office paperwork, and would emerge from the depths of my id to confront the interplanetary forces of HR ineptitude. This Super Average Joe could quickly and patiently deal with these daily trials of corporate America, never feeling the slightest rage over how much of his time was wasted on a daily basis by the nefarious Mr./Ms. XMS Report Team Collective or its/his/her chattering idiot henchman, LAN Broadcaster, deliverer of perpetually cheery news on company picnics, exciting free sporting event tickets, and reminders of impending mandatory physicals. This seemed all well and good, but it still left one burning question-- who the hell was Jack Marshall? My theory was shot, thus validating my own sanity.
I realized there was only one solution. I must join forces with the 17 Marshalls of the world, and bring this ring of tyranny to its knees. I replied to both the XMS Report Team Collective and all 17 Marshalls on the list:
Dear Mr./Ms. XMS Report Team Hive-Collective,
My name is John Marshall. My name is not Jack or Joe. I work in Pittsburgh. I am a graphic designer for Architectural Finishes. I just started here three weeks ago. I do not have an Amex card. I do not work in Mt. Zion for Glass and Coatings. Someone named Jack or Joe who does work in Mt. Zion for Glass and Coatings owes money to you. I am not that person, because I am not named Jack or Joe. I work in Pittsburgh for Architectural Finishes, and do not own an Amex card.
Thank you,
John Marshall (not Joe or Jack who owe you money), x2057
Thankfully, I did not hear back from Mr./Ms. XMS Report Team Collective. I did, however, hear from Jack Marshall, who apparently did truly exist:
Dear John,
Hi! I'm Jack Marshall, but sometimes people call me John. Thank you for bringing my account problem to my attention. I grew up in this area, but am not aware of having any immediate family nearby. In fact, I don't think I am related to any of the Marshalls in the area. I work with Bill and Joe Marshall over here in Glass and Coatings, but we are not related. I have a father and a son named Michael, and a wife named Rebecca. I sure hope everything else hasn't been this confusing for you.
Good luck,
Jack
I wasn't sure why this man thought I cared. Perhaps we were now bonded by our names, brothers in corporate anonymity. He was wrong, at least about the bonding part. I really just wanted this to all end so I could get back to work, but I couldn't resist one more email:
Dear Jack,
Guess what? Here's another Marshall you aren't related to. Most of my family is from the Johnstown area. My father is Bill (not Glass and Coatings Bill, but truckin' down the road, ex-minister Bill) and I have a brother named Michael (not Canadian Office Mike, but waiter Mike). My mother's name is Emily (not Louisville Chemical Emily, but legal secretary Emily), but most people call her Ellen. Most of the other Marshalls in my family are named Charles, including my grandfather (not AeroSpace Division Charles, but deceased steel worker Charles). I am also not related to deceased Supreme Court Justice John Marshall, and have absolutely no ties to John Marshall High School in West Virginia.
Well, it was great hearing from another Marshall. I sure do hope everything gets cleared up with your XMS account.
John
I was tempted to ask if he was a black man since every other Marshall I have ever met outside of my family is of African-American descent, but that would have opened another can of worms altogether. Then I realized that no self-respecting black man would have written someone such a stupid ass, insipid letter in the first place, so I let that one slide. It didn't matter, I guess, because he was just another Marshall I'll never meet who no one will ever really know about.