to the cocksucker that smashed my window and took my bag yesterday
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You know, I'll take some of the blame. Maybe I shouldn't have left my bag which apparently looked like it might have some valuables in it sitting out in front of the passenger seat. Maybe I should have known that the storefront of Bed, Bath, and Beyond was one of those places my dad warns me about, with scofflaws and vandals engaging in aberrant, sociopathic ballyhoo daily. Maybe I should have the Viper Car alarm system, so you would have thought twice about breaking my window, as a venomous snake with fangs the size of golf pencils was waiting inside to defend the chastity of my car. But alas. Alas, I missed those opportunities.
So now you have my bag, my shoulder satchel with the Weezer patch on it. I'm sure you've looked inside by now. You probably noticed that there was no laptop in there, no iBook, no PDA, no cel phone, no Heart of the Ocean necklace. You've also probably noticed that you now have about 40 copies of my resume. Given that you're breaking into cars in broad daylight, I might assume that you're not very smart, so let's just assume you can't read between the lines, either. Yes, I am searching for employment. Yes, those resumes and that neat little velo-bound booklet of my writing samples were in fact there because I was parked for a job interview. In other words, you're stealing from someone with limited cash resources. No, I wasn't interviewing with Bed Bath and Beyond, but with a nice little PR boutique company less than a block away.
But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you are of above-average intelligence and skill. You did, after all, make a clean getaway (although my CD Player was under the seat, you dickhead) at lunchtime in front of the usually busy 9th and Bryant bus stop. Maybe you're personable and persuaded possible witnesses to leave or lie to me. In that case, you might be well connected. You might have charisma and panache, charm, and just one of those untraceable likabilities. And that's where our missed connection comes in. And no, this is not sexual.
Yes, you do have several copies of my resume. You probably live in the city, as I'm stuck here in the suburbs, otherwise I wouldn't have been naive enough to park in front of the urban warzone that is Bed Bath and Beyond. Now, personally I think my interview yesterday went pretty well. We spoke of everything from sports to professional backgrounds and I did get this weird Ally McBeal energy from the office. That's good. But if the unthinkable happens and they don't make me an offer, you are in the position to help me out, to kind of re-balance the karmic universe you set askew when you violated my car and personal space.
So I propose this: you distribute those resumes to forty or so fortune-500 clients for me, just kind of dress well (you know, I had some nice clothes in the back you could have borrowed, but I don't think you had the time to really see what I had to offer) and be pleasant and tell them I'm an up and coming recent graduate who is looking for an entry level position. I have PR and editing experience, as well as relationships with the working media (feel free to contact my references found in the bag). If you can somehow score me a few interviews, well then I promise I'll take the fantasy of running you down and putting you in a wheelchair out of my head. In fact, let's just let bygones be bygones. Help me help you. You help find me a new job and well, not only will the karmic imbalance be corrected, but hey, maybe we can get a cup of coffee at Cafe Macondo.
You can regail me with stories of thievery and Robin Hood-esque exploits (i guess I did look like a yuppie rube in that suit, but like I said, I was there for an interview), and I'll bring you out to the subrubs where I might happily watch you smash the windows on the ever increasing number of Hummer H2's I've been seeing. I can't guarantee you'd find that laptop you're looking for, but it might be fun, and you would have a new friend. Think of me not as a potential accessory, but as an activity partner. More so, we can have one of those relatshionhips like Tim Robbins and Martin Lawrence did in Nothing to Lose. Or, if things really work out well, like Chris Tucker and Charlie Sheen in Money Talks.
Anyway, if you're into it, drop me a line. Given that I email my resume about 12 times a day, you'll have to contact me once your headhunting service starts so you might be compensated fairly. I am looking forward to this possible partnership, however, and once I get all of this broken glass our of my palm that stuck there when I tried to shift into drive yesterday, maybe we can meet and shake hands. You can even keep the bag.