(A few years ago, I wrote something funny for my out of office message while on vacation. Now people tell me they look forward to my next one…so, here goes nothing. This is a rewrite from one a long time ago.)
My name is C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. I’ve been hired by the normal operator of this electronic mail account to provide automatic reply services. I am fluent in more than six million forms of communication, but since I do not know which system you originate from, English will have to do.
My master accumulated far too many Delta SkyMiles and Marriott points and was forced, by cultural custom, to depart this system for a tropical locale with his wife and three kids. I have been commissioned by a conspiracy between his wife and staff to block his access to email, text messages, SnapChats and FedEx envelopes.
The odds of him successfully navigating that asteroid field are approximately 3,720 to 1. However, he is scheduled to begin responding to his own correspondence again on Monday, February 25, as a giant tractor beam begins to pull him back into this part of the galaxy.
If you need immediate assistance or are in the process of scheduling a meeting with my master, he has chosen to place control of his calendar and many other important things in the hands of an executive assistant, Brenda Xing. (We believe she may be superhuman, so use caution if you meet her at Mos Eisley Cantina.) She is fluent in English and Instagram, and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org or ___–___–____.
Otherwise, your message has been secured in my master’s inbox. As long as there are not more than 3,000 communications waiting for him upon his return, I have been instructed not to automatically delete them.
May the force be with you.