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The Addict’s Cover Letter

                                                                                   The Addict’s Cover Letter

Blake Stevens

1201 West Blaine St. Apt #60

Riverside, CA 92507

(___) 382-5968


December 21, 2012



Human Resources Director



Stafford Texas, 77700


Dear Mr. _______,

                This letter is sent in regards to the position advertised on ______.com about the position of _____ that you wish to have filled. Attached with this is a copy of my resume, as well as my contact information.

                                It is to be understood by any individual interested in the position of ­­­______ must be filled by a candidate who is not only resourceful, but also have the ability to manage everyone within the work area in the most timely and efficient manner. This individual must also have the drive and charisma of a natural born leader, unafraid to any challenge or obstacle he may face.

                                I am a goal driven individual, with an unbreakable focus to the very minute details that any and all projects demand. And when crunch time inevitably strikes it’s point at the hour, I can be a very resourceful and creative individual, utilizing my vast networking abilities to their fullest extents. I am a also self-proclaimed and self-certified accountant, botanist, chemist, dietician, philosopher, food critic, film critic, paralegal and mathematician.

                                My strengths have given me the inspiration to explore various avenues of not only work related, but worldly occupations and experiences. This has led me to excel in the fields of sales and marketing in particular, as the resume included with this letter highlights.

                                In closing, I wish to reiterate my understanding in finding the ideal candidate. My resume exemplifies that I am exactly the kind of individual who not only shows promise in the position required, but expertise and unsurpassable skill.


Best Regards,

-Blake Stevens 


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            On the day before the event, the inside of the event center was nearly complete. The chairs were set, the bar was full, and behind the stage were three giant screens. They were hooked up to a laptop that ran images and text, and there was a man standing on the stage with a microphone in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. He was saying

            “It’s really important to end third world child poverty, and our organization wouldn’t be able to do anything if it wasn’t for all of your generous donations. If it wasn’t for you, none of this would even be possible. Child poverty is a horrible problem in the world today, and if we don’t take a stand to stop it, no one will.” The words are a bit cliché. Unrefined. He’ll tell his assistants where they should make corrections. They’ll correct it once, then again later at night, then he’ll keep them up to make another correction during the night, (because the man himself is a workaholic) then in the morning there will be another revision, one at lunch and a final one by four in the afternoon. Which still leaves the man another three hours to truly perfect his words. Every year, he purposely puts off writing his speech to the last minute. It’s because he loves the thrill of the possibility that everything could be ruined.

            “Child poverty is a plague that threatens to anihilate-” but he stops. It’s coming off too strong. He thinks about this for a moment, then glances at his watch. He’s running out of time. Better to just finish the rehearsal, make sure the computers and the screens are all running in sync.

            “Remember without your help, none of this would be possible.” It’s the cue. The tech guy at the laptop hears this and presses a button. On the screens are giant figures of numbers, starting at $0. Instantly the number jumps to $1,000. It rises like a drug high that threatens to overdose.

            “Reaching our goal of $500,000 will unable us to build thousands of shelters for homeless children across the world! We can make a difference!” The number has now risen to $45,000. There’s a pause. It seems the program has a glitch, but then the number on the screens changes to $130,000. $275,000. $410,000. Exciting music plays on the overhead speakers that are hidden in the rafters, and the seats in front of the stage are completely empty. A technicians hides wires in the corner of the room. A woman moves boxes away from the bar. The man looks at his paper with probing eyes. After a few moments and the constant encouragement of the man to the empty audience to donate money, the number finally reaches $500,000. The music abruptly changes and the words Ce-lebrate good times, Come on! play, and the man thanks everyone in attendance for their donations. $500,000.

            The next day the event has the attendance of all the richest socialites of the city. A balding, old fat man has an arm across two girls who look like models, and he has a cigar in his mouth, and he points it at all the flashing cameras as if it’s his dick and he were saying look at it. A city politician and his wife and their three children arrive, and they wave and smile to the cameras, but it’s a fake smile that they’ve learned to have after years of unhappy marriage. Then comes a lawyer, the attorney general, a few of his friends, a film maker, an actor, a musician ( and not the one who is to perform tonight) and a few other rich people who have the good luck of knowing other rich people.

            The dinner portion is comprised of a three course meal. The appetizers are light and addicting, while the main course has options that include crab from Singapore and Kobe beef from, well actually not Japan but Nebraska, but it was from the best ranch in the state, it was just cheaper to go domestic, that’s all. The desert course included only the richest of German chocolates. The wines were from Napa, and there were four separate fully stocked bars.

            The man’s refined speech hits a real cord. He states simple, direct facts about injustices in the world. A few statistics. As an orator, he rivals Joseph Goebbels. As they listen the men clench their fists in anger, and they’re dates feel tears well in their eyes. The children don’t pay attention. They tweak from the high they get from eating their deserts and sword fight with their utensils.

            The number on the screens hit $500,000. Everyone cheers, as if they were happy that yes, finally the world is actually ending. Ce-lebrate good times, come on! Everyone was full of food and drink and some of the children danced on tables, their parents not stopping them. They kicked the plates and glasses to the ground, and the catering staff watched on with a nervous, irritated glare. But these were the rich. And they had just done a good thing. They had donated $500,000. Everyone likes to feel like they’re the good guys.

            $500,000. $500,000 to a non-profit organization, that had staff all across the country. Connections with other organizations and companies and media outlets. A non-profit organization with bills to pay. And now they had $500,000. It’s not that it all wasn’t used for it’s stated purpose. In rough estimation, about $100,000 would be used to try to end children living in extreme poverty. Cause that’s all you really could do. Try. It was simply too big a problem to completely eradicate. All the various countries, developed or not, all the millions upon billions of people, all of the undocumented, the hidden. An insect against a mountain. And under that mountain, was the rest of the iceberg. It would take more than a few years to completely eradicate. Actually it could take decades, probably longer. Child poverty is like money. It’s always going to exist.

            That night a dubstep DJ mixed really harsh beats and women in little black dresses who wore no underwear danced with men who had power, men who had money, men who had face to save. Men who were righteous and “good”.

            By as early as the next day, there were rumors of who was going to be the musical act at next year’s fundraiser event. Where might it be next time? San Francisco? New York? Honolulu? The man considered this.

            Everyone loves Hawaii.

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