Why My Job Rules. For Two More Weeks.

For the summer, I've been working at a large bank in St. Paul, which has been awesome. I work as a writer/communications person, which is definitely awesome. I don't think I've done the same thing two days in a row all summer (other than writing, which is different every day). Sweet.

Anyway, yesterday I was putting the finishing touches on an e-newsletter we're putting together, but a letter that was supposed to be included hadn't come in. So I did what any good writer does in such a situation: I made one up.

"Dear Bank,

How are you? I am fine. Summer camp is very fun, and I am having a good time. Every day I go swimming and fishing and hiking and camping and sky diving and ultimate fighting and paragliding and spelunking and sometimes even roast marshmallows. All the guys in my cabin are very nice and tell me that they "got my back". That's good, because we had to launch a counter-attack against the girls camp across the lake last week, and one of the girls almost hit me with a javelin. My bunk-mate Jimmy got an Atomic Wedgie and had to be airlifted to the nearest trauma center. We lost a lot of good men on that raid.

Anyway, tomorrow we're going to go camping again, and Jeff, the counselor, says we'll be right near a big waterfall where we can go swimming and fishing. He says the Niagara Falls Hilton is one of his favorite places to camp because it's really near a casino.

Next week is my team's week to work in the dining hall. I like working in the dining hall because that means we can help the cook pick out the meals. My favorite is macaroni and cheese. Maybe the cook will let us help him make macaroni and cheese next week. Last week, one of the teams' leaders didn't come to help pick out a meal, and we had to eat sauerkraut for dinner and then again for breakfast. That wasn't fun.

Well, I need to go again; it's my turn to patrol the perimeter tonight. The girls always attack on nights when there's no moon. Tell Mom and Dad I love them, and rub Rover behind the ears for me. Hopefully someday, when summer camp's over and the world's not such a crazy, mixed up place, we can go fishing in the creek out behind Old Man Baxter's barn. Remember the time he winged you with his shotgun? Hahaha! I still laugh about that.

The counselor's calling me now; he can hear the girls whispering in the trees beyond the perimeter. Wish me luck. If I die in a combat zone...

Yours,

Danny"

Epilogue:
It turns out the letter, which showed up in my inbox this morning, was from the Chairman of the Board of Directors of the Bank, and had to do stocks and Bank progress over the last quarter. Whoops. Glad I changed it before I submitted it.


PS - My job rules.

And the CEO loved my most recent article.

And my proposal was accepted, and the department is buying $2000 worth of video equipment.

And I get to write part of the scripts.


Send Emmys to Leeds.