Dear Mr. Murdock,
This letter may be my last communication on this earth. By the time you read this, you will have seen the results of my absolute incompetence over the last 12 hours. You also probably will have learned two or three things that I have been keeping from you. Upon reflection, considering the bind I now find myself in, some of these I should have mentioned to you, if not in the first interview, definitely in the second. I will attempt to fill in the gaps of knowledge below.
First, you might now know about my true identity. My name, in fact, is not Karl Smiter, but Morton T. Bajimini. Yes, of the very same Lake County Bajiminis. I feared if you knew my heritage, I would not be welcomed into the company’s open arms. Second, I do not have ten years of experience managing high-volume through-put in a three-shift production line, like my job requires. Conversely, I have only mostly overseen a staff of three entry level graphic designers at a tiny design firm. I know that seems odd, given that I could probably be a vice president at Bajiminicorp, but I have always defied my family’s — and our shareholders’ — expectations. Third, as a teenager, I caddied for you at the country club for three separate rounds of golf. You thought I was the one who reported you to the club house for cheating, and you got me fired for it. The truth is I never reported your malfeasance; that honor belongs to your rat bastard son, Jerry, who also worked at the club in those days.
Anyway, let me apologize for what happened to your car. It was the only vehicle left at the warehouse and you were not due back to the site from your meeting for several hours. I needed a fast way to catch up to your secretary, Janet, to stop her from doing something she would regret. The road was slick, I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt, and I crashed into the guard rail at a sharp turn right past marker 21.5 on Route 19. The car went over the embankment and I was thrown hard. My days as a stuntman for Scott Baio actually helped me manage the fall, but even I could not anticipate falling onto a bear trap. My leg is decimated between these metal jaws. I’m immobile but alive. As I write this, I would say the bleeding has not been that bad, all things considered.
I’m afraid that because I did not get to Janet in time, she attempted to seduce your sister-in-law at my request. If things played out how I think it would have, as I write at this moment, Janet is probably elbow deep in the wrong sister-in-law! She was actually supposed to seduce Michelle, and not Pamela. Sir, let me explain: Michelle is withholding important information concerning your expansion project in China. She’s always had a soft spot for Janet, and I thought if I could get her to talk….. Well, you know Janet would do anything for you, and I thought the less she knew, the better. I only told her to go to your sister-in-law’s, seduce her, and try to get her to talk about the China deal so we can help you. I noticed too late that Janet left a printout of Pamela’s address on her desk, so I knew she was heading in the wrong direction. Her cell phone was turned off; I had no way to reach her. I just hope Janet’s marriage to the lieutenant governor can take this hit.
I should probably explain why your rare prize-winning blue koi fish are dead. Well, I had to put out the fire in your office and the aquarium inside was the closest solution available to me at the time. Sure, how did the fire start, you are probably wondering. Well, as I was racing out of your office with your car keys, I accidentally kicked over a kerosene container on the warehouse floor outside your door. While I cleaned it all up according to safety regulations, one small rag had not been disposed. I admit it, I missed it. I was stressed over causing an accident like that, and in my desire to relieve the pressure from what I thought was a near-miss disaster, I gave in to the dark urges of my most challenging vice. Before I could go outside, I lit a cigarette. And with that one errant half-extinguished match, flames were swallowing your office door frame. I managed to save a solid 60% of your Italian leather couch and most of the filing cabinet marked Q-Z. The rest of your files are lost to the heavens, but the extinguisher I retrieved from a clear 50 yards across the warehouse floor managed to avert a total catastrophe.
Sir, I am genuinely sorry that all of this came to be. If I had been upfront and honest with not only you, but myself, perhaps our Q2 numbers would have been better and not have brought the ire of the board. Your office would likely be untouched by the damage of Prometheus’ gift and my selfish appetite for delicious nicotine. Those poor fish…. Your sister-in-law would not have been violated by the faithful but unclean assistant you keep in your employ. Your Bentley would not be a state of near disrepair. And I would not be here in the woods, my leg shattered between this iron bear trap, slowly losing blood and beginning to shiver on this warm summer evening.
Personally, I’m equally shocked and impressed that I have been able to recount today’s events by etching this entire correspondence onto my chest, stomach and legs with my pocket knife. God bless the Boy Scouts, always be prepared. But I don’t know a Scout who could escape this, but clearly, being two badges short of an Eagle sure doesn’t change a thing for me. Anyway, I just need to say that it has been a pleasure working for you, Mr. Murdock. Hell, Jim, it’s been an adventure. I pray for your forgiveness and understanding, but I pray slightly more for an end to this numbing pain that is creeping up my torso. I’ve been here for hours. I’m getting sleepy, Mr. Murdock.
Please accept this as my formal letter of resignation. Tell Janet I’m sorry. You can keep my pocket knife, Jim. Tell my parents I don’t hate them. It’s been a fun working for you; I learned volumes. I may need a letter of recommendation. You can throw out any items in my desk. Someone has to take care of my cats.