Hotmail or Hot Male?
Updated: Aug 7
Andrew Andersen Victoria, BC / August 6, 2023
“Today during my shift, there was another incident... quite amusing, I think,” said Arthur, pouring good old French calvados into our glasses.
For the past four years, Arthur has been serving in the Canadian Police Force, but he wasn't always a cop. Throughout his relatively long life, he has changed many professions, but never a police officer. So, he refers to his current service as "pre-retirement exoticism." Nonetheless, Arthur often entertains us with various stories and anecdotes, including those from his "police life." And now, it seemed that something interesting or at least amusing awaited us...
“So, there we were, patrolling in Chinatown, my partner and I, sitting in the car, chatting, observing people,” Arthur continued. “And then, this white woman walks straight towards us, with a bag over her shoulder and a suitcase on wheels. She was not tall, with short dyed hair and a slightly broad, cheeky face. I thought, if she's Canadian or American, there must be some indigenous heritage in her family, and if she's a foreigner, she's probably Russian or Ukrainian. Maybe, she could also be Romanian... Then the woman turned to us, and as soon as she opened her mouth, it became clear that it was the latter: she struggled with English words and pronounced them with a strong accent. So, I interrupted her and asked in Russian if she spoke Russian.”
"Oh, that's great!" exclaimed the Eastern European guest, amazed by the possibility to switch to her mother tongue (and, by the way, I never asked her where she was actually from), immediately making a request to us, "Hey, boys, do you have internet? I need to check my email!"
"Madam," I replied, "as you may have noticed, this is a patrol police car, not a mobile internet cafe."
"Madam" in response to my explanation distorted her face with a somewhat pained grimace and told us that she had rented an apartment here in Chinatown, and in order to get the keys, she needed to make a phone call to the number sent to her email. It's a common situation, of course, but the issue is that her iPhone can't catch any internet here. So, the situation is truly desperate...
Well, what were we supposed to do? Police officers are supposed to be friends, helpers, and protectors of the population... supposedly. But my partner (by the way, he's of Estonian descent) and I try our best to help people whenever possible. So, I turned to the lady and brought out our service computer attached to a tripod, opened Google, and offered to check her email. Technically, letting civilians use our service computer is completely crazy, but surprisingly, there was nothing mentioned about it in our city's police regulations. So, why not help someone in need?
Our guest began to press the keys, but it seemed she was having little success. The mask of despair returned to her tired face, and the poor woman turned to me again:
"Oh! I just can't get it to work!"
I turned the computer screen towards me and almost jumped out of my seat! The screen was filled with photos of naked men with huge erected dicks!
"What the hell are you typing in here?!" I asked. And she replied, "Well... It's... hot mail, I guess..."
I glanced at the search engine window and saw... She had typed "hot male"... And indeed, in English it's pronounced the same way as "hotmail"...
Well, that's quite a mix-up! What should I do? I typed "hotmail" properly and turned the computer back towards our suffering multilingual lady. "You can now enter your username and password," I said.
On the third attempt, our city guest finally managed to access her email and write down the phone number. By the way, she took a pen from my breast pocket without asking for permission, and then warmly thanked us, giving me a wet kiss on the cheek. I hope she continued to have success in her further endeavors.
"It's a fascinating story," said our Polish friend Elzbieta, sipping her calvados. "But I don't quite understand something - how does she access her email at home?"
"That's also a great mystery to me," replied Arthur. "I immediately thought the same as you did and couldn't find an answer. Maybe her husband registered that mailbox for her, and she hasn't closed it since? Or more likely, it was her son... But who knows for sure?"