December 29, 2002 |
To: Mark Mays President, Clear Channel Incorporated Dear Mark, Two years I’ve been meaning to write to you but I always change my mind at the last minute. The utter pointlessness of the effort seems to assert itself rather strongly right at the moment when I’m getting ready to type the salutation. It’s then that my internal Voice of Reason pipes up, reminding me that there are several hands through which a letter must pass before the head of a company is even asked whether he wants to read said letter or not, and that these hands belong to people who have to ask themselves a couple of simple questions before they decide to move the letter on up the chain. Questions like: “Does the president of the company that employs me want to read this letter?” or “Will placing this letter on the desk belonging to the president of the company that employs me help my situation in any way?” or even “What’s the likelihood that anyone ever says anything if I just run this God damned letter through the shredder right fucking now?” And really: who can blame the quietly hostile office employee for having a little fun with such machines as are available to him? Not us, certainly. |
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