Dear Virginia Driver,
How are you doing? I'm sure your day is going well, because you managed to get yourself out of a tight spot. I mean that literally -- the parking spot you chose was just a little squished for your car and your abilities. I know, because in your efforts, you managed to leave a dent and streaks of paint along my back bumper.
What you didn't leave, however, is a note.
I know, I know, times are rough with this economy and all. I'm sure you didn't work my car repairs into your budget. I've bumped into a few vehicles in my day, so I know the way your stomach churns at the thought.
But I left a note.
I left a note when I was making minimum wage working retail over summer breaks. I left a note when I was certain the dent could just be hammered out and the paint chips buffed off. I left a note because I am not a bitch, and think other people might be attached to their belongings and have a reasonable expectation that cars won't be banged up after a 15 minute stop at the grocery store.
So Virginia Driver, whoever you are, I want to thank you for giving me another reason to be happy I'm leaving this town. Thank you for reminding me that I behave better than you, I'm probably prettier than you, and am a whole lot less rotten on the inside than you.
Sincerely,
Christina
Saturday, November 21, 2009
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4 comments:
Wow! You seem rather angry. I would be quite angry as well. But it's done, and he/she didn't leave a note, and there's not much you can do about it now so drink a nice cup of tea and relax a bit watching the TV or a good movie or something.
Well, hell.
Hopefully, he (yes, HE) tripped on the way into his poorly decorated apartment, stubbed his toe on a tacky lamp and then choked on his 3rd Bud Light after getting ketchup on his white button-down shirt.
Ass.
Congratulations on your move! When's the big day?
I HATE PEOPLE LIKE THAT!! i hope he hits a tree! (not like he dies or anything, just hope he hits a tree)
I love "Dear _____" letters. They perk me right up and let me vent into the universe. That's a very bitchy thing to do - something I once did as a teenager when being accountable meant nothing to me. I still feel bad about it.
Oh, and it DID happen to me later on. Karma, gotta love it.
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