Dear Sir,
I do not feel that this title is befitting for one such as you; however, seeing how I have manners and you apparently lack them it behooves me to provide you with an example.
On Friday, you were plying your trade at a local grocer, a delivery service for goods at cut-rate prices. When first I passed your stand there was a gaggle of geriatrics asking questions and taking flyers, signing up for the "$100 Giveaway!" You seemed to be doing well.
I ran my errands, collecting take-and-bake pizzas, purchasing necessities like toilet paper and milk, and again I passed by. This time there was no buzzing crowd, solitary you stood at your utilitarian stand. When I had nearly passed you by completely you called out to me at over ten feet away, "Come, take a flyer!" Quite frankly, I ignored you. I did not want your service, my hands were full, and I had other things to do. When I kept walking you sneered, "Or not."
Excuse me? Excuse me! I must tell you, sir, that you are very fortunate I was so busy because as I walked away I played in my head the alternate ending to this scene.
It went like this: Instead of me walking away, arms loaded with a purse, a large package of toilet paper, a half gallon of milk, and two family-sized pizzas, unable to collect your superfluous flyer even if it had interested me, I turned on my heel toward you, came charging at your impotent stand and bellowed, "Or not?! How dare you! Who do you think you are?" Depositing my goods atop your barren counter I would rage, "You see a woman, burdened with goods, not a finger to spare, and you chastise her for not stopping to talk to you about something she clearly does not want or need? Perhaps you should do the world a service by removing yourself from the service industry as you are not fit for human interaction. Shall I go on or not?"
Regardless of the fact that I did not, in truth, say these things to you, I maintain that my sentiments are not far off the mark. You, sir, are a disgrace to your trade. May you never have the misfortune of crossing me again, as you are unlikely to be so lucky as to escape my wrath twice.
Sincerely,
Me
I do not feel that this title is befitting for one such as you; however, seeing how I have manners and you apparently lack them it behooves me to provide you with an example.
On Friday, you were plying your trade at a local grocer, a delivery service for goods at cut-rate prices. When first I passed your stand there was a gaggle of geriatrics asking questions and taking flyers, signing up for the "$100 Giveaway!" You seemed to be doing well.
I ran my errands, collecting take-and-bake pizzas, purchasing necessities like toilet paper and milk, and again I passed by. This time there was no buzzing crowd, solitary you stood at your utilitarian stand. When I had nearly passed you by completely you called out to me at over ten feet away, "Come, take a flyer!" Quite frankly, I ignored you. I did not want your service, my hands were full, and I had other things to do. When I kept walking you sneered, "Or not."
Excuse me? Excuse me! I must tell you, sir, that you are very fortunate I was so busy because as I walked away I played in my head the alternate ending to this scene.
It went like this: Instead of me walking away, arms loaded with a purse, a large package of toilet paper, a half gallon of milk, and two family-sized pizzas, unable to collect your superfluous flyer even if it had interested me, I turned on my heel toward you, came charging at your impotent stand and bellowed, "Or not?! How dare you! Who do you think you are?" Depositing my goods atop your barren counter I would rage, "You see a woman, burdened with goods, not a finger to spare, and you chastise her for not stopping to talk to you about something she clearly does not want or need? Perhaps you should do the world a service by removing yourself from the service industry as you are not fit for human interaction. Shall I go on or not?"
Regardless of the fact that I did not, in truth, say these things to you, I maintain that my sentiments are not far off the mark. You, sir, are a disgrace to your trade. May you never have the misfortune of crossing me again, as you are unlikely to be so lucky as to escape my wrath twice.
Sincerely,
Me
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