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yes, my name is Michael Minolta

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Today I picked up a beloved old Minolta X-700 from the repair shop. Yet again.

The regular receptionist was not available, and acting as stand-in was a massage therapist from the medical office that shares the same office space (somewhat incredibly). She asked my name, and I told her. As she hunted through the pile of cameras to be returned to their owners, she said, "Oh, here it is. But it's for a Michael Werneburg."

"Yes, that's me."

"I thought you said Michael Minolta."

"..."

Now I'm no poker player, and I think something must have showed in my expression, because she defensively said, "Like I said, I'm a massage therapist."

"No problem at all," I told her, sensing that I'd yet again worked my usual un-magic. I switched the topic to why I was bothering to have a camera repaired that would probably cost me less than $100 to replace, saying that it had been with me to the Blue Lagoon, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand... It turns out that she had been to Tasmania a few times, and she concluded the conversation by saying, "Camera people have all of the most interesting stories!"