Obsequious

Pliny the Elder is annoyed. The two professors have deprived him of the pleasure of writing a complaining letter. Worse, they have obliged him to write to the editors of Velosophy on their behalf. He derives no joy from being obsequious. He makes a start:

Greetings to the Editors of Velosophy from Pliny the Elder!

Gentlemen, due to a series of UNFORTUNATE EVENTS I find myself in the unenviable position of seeking a favour on behalf of two professors WHOM I BARELY KNOW. One is Professor John F Healey, the Professor of Ugaritic studies at Manchester University, and the other is Professor John F Healy, Professor of Classics at the University of London.

Professor John F Healey, whom I contacted in error, thinking he was Professor John F Healy, the translator of a SELECTION OF MY WORKS ( ! ), knew of me through my contributions to your magazine, and replied asking me if I would recommend him to you as a contributor. As I felt somewhat responsible for the connection, I agreed to do so.

Professor John F Healy, whom I also contacted in error, thinking I was replying to Professor John F Healey and agreeing to recommend him to you as a contributor, received the impression that I was inviting him to contribute to your magazine. Perhaps this is understandable, but it seems to me that Professor John F Healy was somewhat PRECIPITATE in his reply.

Whatever the case I feel I have done as much as can be reasonably expected by these TWO PROFESSORS. The rest is up to you.

I would prefer you to contact the professors directly, as I am a very busy man. I feel I should warn you however, if you do, IT IS EASY TO MIX THEM UP.

Thank you gentlemen, for your attention,

Pliny the Elder.

What do you think? asked Pliny, showing me the letter.

You have skilfully avoided being obsequious, I said.

Double Confusion

Pliny writes:

Most amicable greetings to Professor Healey, from Pliny the Elder,

Sir, I am indeed that Pliny who wrote a story that was published in Velosophy. If I recall, it was a mystery, about a disappearing bicycle, in which I featured as an amateur detective, in the process being accidentally taken for the Messiah by the singing members of the local Korean Church. I am not too modest to admit that my story was enthusiastically received. The editors of Velosophy are therefore well disposed towards me, and I shall be very pleased to put your name forward as a potential contributor. Your interest in bicycle philosophy does you great credit, sir.
I am, etc...

He sends the email. A short time later he receives a reply.

Pliny: Oh, drat and blast!

Me: What's the matter?

Pliny: I've sent it to the wrong Professor Healy! How could I do it twice?

Me: You mean you sent it to the Classics Professor Healy, the one you were going to complain to?

Pliny: Yes, and now he has replied, thanking me for the invitation to contribute to Velosophy.
Listen to this:

Dear Gaius Plinius Secundus, what a wonderful surprise to hear from you after all this time. I had not realised you were still alive! I hope you do not mind me saying so. I was delighted, if a little surprised, to be invited to write something for the magazine Velosophy. It is a great honour, I understand. Your own story, which I have not read, sounds a remarkable one. I hope I shall come up with something if not as good, at least worthy of your confidence in me as a writer. I will admit, many years have passed since I last rode a bicycle. PS. Just a small point. My name is spelled Healy.

Me: Is that it?

Pliny: What do you mean is that it? It's a disaster! I can hardly write him a complaining letter now. And furthermore I am obliged to write to the editors on behalf of two Professor Healeys or Healys, both of whom are virtually unknown to me.

Me: Are you fearful for your reputation?

Pliny: No, no. Of course not.

Confused and Surprised

Pliny is reading an email. He looks puzzled.

Me: Is that an answer to your complaining letter?

Pliny: Yes, but I do not understand it. It appears to be from Professor John F Healey, but he claims he is not the translator of my Natural History.

Me: How peculiar. What does he say?

Pliny: He says, Dear friend, I have just now received your letter of complaint. I fear you have sent it to the wrong man. I am Professor John F Healey, Professor of Semitic, Ugaritic and Aramaic studies at Manchester University. The man deserving of your ire is Professor John F Healy, Professor of Classics at London University. I suggest you reroute your complaint to him.

Me: Oh dear, Pliny, you seem to have sent your complaint to the wrong Professor Healy. Yes look, it's Healy not Healey. Didn't you check?

Pliny: No. Who would have thought there would be two of them?

Me: There aren't two of them. One is a Healy and the other is a Healey. And they are professors of completely different things.

Pliny: Well, no harm is done. I shall now send my complaining letter to Professor Healy. And meanwhile I have made a new acquaintance. Professor Healey is interested in continuing our correspondence. He has added a little footnote to his missive.

Me: What does he say?

Pliny: Well, it is a little strange.

Me: Why am I not surprised?

Pliny: I think you will be. Professor Healey asks if I am that same Pliny who once wrote an article for the magazine Velosophy. It seems he is a bicycle philosopher and has written something on the topic. He asks if I would care to put in a good word for him with the editors.

Me: My goodness! You're right, I am surprised.