Dear Homeless Guy Who Loiters Around My Workplace: Stop giving homeless people a bad name. I know it's hot outside, and I wouldn't mind letting you hang out in our air conditioning all day if you would just have the decency to stop doing unspeakable things to our men's bathroom. I already have to deal with the toilet-seat-peeing women (who often have perfectly nice homes) marking territory in our ladies' room, but at least they, unlike you, manage to keep their bowel movements under fairly strict control. Most of the time.
Dear Driver Who Careens Heedlessly In And Out Of Lanes On The Freeway: Now is not the time to eat your breakfast, or apply your makeup, or clip your toenails, or whatever it is that you do that so distracts you from the task of steering your car between the two white lines of your chosen lane. No, you are not restricted to any one lane; you may drive in this lane or that lane or even that lane over there, but you may not weave in and out of them like a cat on a rollerskate. Perhaps you should either quit drinking early in the morning, or learn to operate a motor vehicle; possibly both.
Dear Teenybopper Who Works The Desk at My Health Club: It's not necessary to look at me like I'm insane when I ask how much it costs to use the kid's club to take care of my child while I work out. I had no idea the service was free, and it's not an unreasonable thing to assume it might cost something. In fact, your company's website specifically says "Rates for the Kid's Club vary from store to store," which certainly implies that a monetary exchange of some kind might be required. And do not, DO NOT, slowly repeat my question with that "I cannot believe anyone would ask something so retarded" tone in your voice; otherwise my head might begin to spin like a propeller and I might have to hop over that desk and eat your face.
Dear Size 6 Jeans: Please fit me.
Dear Weird Guy At My Gym: Please stop trying to chitchat with me. I have enough friends already. In addition, the last thing I want to do while I'm sweating my ass off and huffing away on the elliptical machine is hear about your madcap experiences at the mechanic's shop this morning. If you're so in need of companionship, go get a blog. See how I'm ranting and raving here without holding anyone captive while they're trying to get through their workout?
Dear Family Member Who Shall Remain Nameless: Please stop calling me. You're nuts, and there's no reason I should have to pay for that. Call the Weird Guy at my gym; he's looking for someone to talk to.
Dear Customer at My Workplace: Do not hold up your hand and holler across the room for me to come assist you. This is not the ballpark and I am not a hot dog vendor, and I will not come scampering over there no matter how much arm-waving you do. And trust me, in a battle of wills, I will win: I can ignore you far longer than you can keep up the arm waving and hollering, even if it takes til you fall to the floor from dehydration and muscle fatigue. If you want something, you must do the decent thing and get within 10 feet of me before attempting to attract my attention. Also, do not give a short whistle to get my attention...why? Because I'm not a Labrador Retriever, you idiot.