[Is it as fun to read this kind-sir-what-ho style as it is to write it?]
March 18, 2009
Dear Berkeley Parking Authority:
I had the honor to receive a note from you this morning, and I just wanted to gratefully acknowledge receipt of it, and to inquire how you are as well. Perhaps I might relate to you the circumstances of receiving it, as it is always my pleasure for you to share in my fortunes, especially when you take such an active role.
Fresh from University Ave., where I was having a key copied, I arrived at the public library and found a nice spot right in front. My dashboard sported the most recent receipt from the parking meter in front of the hardware store. Having arrived a few minutes prior to the library opening, I stood in front of the main entrance and made a couple of calls to pass the time. (Just to a few people about work prospects. I’m unemployed.) But, in doing so, I failed to remember that I had not secured a new receipt from the meter.
After entering the library and mounting the first flight of stairs, I stopped cold with the mental equivalent of slapping myself on the forehead, uttering a “gee whiz” and gleefully turning about, admitting to myself that one who forgets one’s friends is a sad being indeed. Reaching my car, I found the note in question. Checking the time on the ticket against that on the expired receipt, I found that the ticket had been written one minute after the receipt expired.
Wow. Let me join what I’m sure are the legions of those who have been privileged to witness it, and state that the Authority’s efficiency is truly to be commended! Many a time have my colleagues and I concluded that it is this kind of crisp efficiency that ought to be in place in Iraq and Afghanistan. So much so, that several of my colleagues have agreed to put their signatures to a letter I am drafting to our new president to that effect, recommending that the entire Parking Authority be deputized and deployed as future army reservists in those places where order and service are most needed.
With note in hand, I returned to the library to do a few things on the free wifi, such as look for work (I’m unemployed); attempt to file my taxes for the last two years (though because of the small amount of earnings I’m not required to), so that I might get a stimulus check and thus pay this month’s rent; and to pay $15 of my credit card bill off so that I don’t get a fee for going over the limit. See, I had to charge my car insurance bill this month on a credit card.
Next I headed to the bank to deposit my last $15 in cash into my account so that I don’t get an overdraft fee, as my balance is currently $2.40. Now, blissfully free of money concerns (to paraphrase Josef Stalin, “no money, no problem”), I can focus on sending you hearty greetings and assure you that, the next time I come upon $30, I can promise you sincerely and with all my heart and the binding promise of a true friend, that you will be the first to share in the richness of my good fortune.
And I’ll add in closing that, though each note I have received from you has been the result of my carelessly forgetting to attend to my duties as a citizen (albeit one of Oakland, though I remain loyal to pure and virtuous Berkeley deep inside), I now realize that memory loss is no excuse, and that the concerns and needs of a friend such as yourself should always come first and foremost in the long list of such that we call life. Consider this letter a warm shower of affection on you and yours.
Yours sincerely,
Dan Nelson