Auntie Beeb is an old and venerable institution with all the stuffiness and formality that implies. I'm sure there are plenty of younger companies in the UK where an American style of business communication would not result in one of the new sales assistants almost literally hiding under his desk for a week because he was too scared of me to respond to what I thought was a perfectly standard email.

This cracks me up because Joe wants to work for Auntie Beeb after he finishes his degree.

Heh. We do have an LA office! He could help them figure out how to keep making money after we run out of countries to sell Dancing With the Stars to.

So it's not Americans, it's non-Southern/Western Americans.

Could just be New Yorkers...

I know I haven't been out of the city in too long when I get annoyed checking out at a convenience store in the 'burbs. In NJ they pick up the item, scan it, put it in the bag, repeat as necessary. Hit the total button, tell me how much, take my money and make change. Here? That's all one gesture.

I prefer it my way, that's why I live here. But I know I'm wound a little too tight when the extra 46 seconds of human interraction is driving me around the bend.

Oh, he wants to go to London and work there.

Oh, he wants to go to London and work there.

The London office has a Doctor Who themed conference room. Apropos of nothing.

Heh. We do have an LA office! He could help them figure out how to keep making money after we run out of countries to sell Dancing With the Stars to.

Can I make TV shows? Cool, awesome TV shows with, you know, awesomeness?

God, maybe I am too American for the Beeb. I can imagine the pitch meeting...

BBC: Now, tell us about your concept.

Me: It's awesome. So awesome. There's this awesome team of awesome people and what they do, see, is awesome stuff. I think with aliens. Maybe magic. But no monkeys. Maybe a robot. An awesome magic robot that does awesome stuff.

BBC: ...Sorry, I'm not following you...

Me: God! It's just AWESOME, okay?! Just give me the money and John Barrowman! What the fuck is the matter with you?!

BBC: I think we're done here.

Me: You know, if America had said that during World War Two, London would be a rubble-filled pit! So UN-awesome! Fuck!

BBC: Good day to you, sir.

Me: But...

BBC: I SAID GOOD DAY! Sorry, that sounded rude.

I know I haven't been out of the city in too long when I get annoyed checking out at a convenience store in the 'burbs. In NJ they pick up the item, scan it, put it in the bag, repeat as necessary. Hit the total button, tell me how much, take my money and make change. Here? That's all one gesture.

In New Orleans, that would also include the cashier commenting on every item, asking what you're planning to make with the stuff you're buying, commenting on the weather, asking where you work and what you do, calling one of the other cashiers over to discuss an interesting item that you're buying, and it would take five minutes. And the cashiers would also just about always address me as "sweetie" or "baby," which I hated.

Good grief, I'd better never work for a british company then--I'm already too east coast for the west coast, I'd scare the Brits away!

There's this awesome team of awesome people and what they do, see, is awesome stuff. I think with aliens. Maybe magic. But no monkeys. Maybe a robot. An awesome magic robot that does awesome stuff.

See, to me that sounds more like a SyFy pitch.

you can't skip the greetings or sign-offs when you write emails

Yeah, I don't like when these are skipped either.