My friend was trying to get a job as a firefighter and asked me to write him a letter of recommendation. This is what I wrote. I wonder why he never got hired…
Dear Sir or Ma’am,
I would like to recommend NAME WITHHELD for a position in the Fire Department. I can’t think of anyone more qualified for the job than him and here’s why.
Cannibull
One afternoon not long ago, I decided to close my lemonade stand a little early and head for the beach. As I folded up my card table and put it in the garage, Sarajevo (my cat) decided to explore the front lawn. I turned my head for a second and suddenly there was a thunder of barking.
It seemed that at that same moment, the neighbor’s pitbull (Cannibull) had decided to do some exploring of his own. This frightened Sarajevo to no end. Even though Cannibull is actually pretty harmless he has a hefty bark, so naturally, Sarajevo was freaking out. He darted up the old oak tree, climbing branch after branch until he reached a landing.
Franko Schneider, my neighbor came running over to retrieve Cannibull, but didn’t so much as utter an apology to me or Sarajevo. I looked up at the old oak and saw my cat, 40 feet in the air, trapped in the tree. He meowed and screeched and caterwauled, but he didn’t budge. Unfortunately, I suffer from chronic vertigo on account of a messy roof-top, spaghetti dinner incident that I won’t go into. Just understand that standing on a step-stool makes me woozy…as does angel hair.
Someone save Sarejevo!
So there I was, unable to save Sarajevo. I needed a miracle. Just then, who comes cruising down the street towards my house in his sidecar? That’s right. NAME WITHHELD. Now, I admit I did know NAME before this occasion. He is known throughout the community as being a big fan of lemonade.
Over the last few months, he would frequent my lemonade stand a few times a week, but we never really spoke more than a couple minutes at time about the advantages of pulp or whether crushed ice or ice cubes melt faster. NAME was in the neighborhood, having just finished delivering a shipment of grandfather clocks to Crate & Barrel and was stopping by to grab a lemonade. Of course, since I had closed the shop early, I had no lemonade – and besides my mind was on more important things now – like how to get Sarajevo down from the blasted tree.
Well, NAME noticed my frustration. He pulled up and asked, “What seems to be the problem?” I explained the story. He took in a breath and then said, “Not a problem.”
Not a problem, I thought. What is he talking about?
NAME pulled his side-car up my driveway to the edge of the oak tree. It seems that he had suped it up if ever there was a situation just like this. As he lifted the bucket seat up, it revealed a retracting ladder, which he had built from scraps of wood from the house he grew up in. As the ladder started lifting up the tree to the sky, I thought I better go make this guy some lemonade.
Baking cookies
With NAME on Sarajevo-saving detail, I hurried into my kitchen and open up the refrigerator. After pouring a large glass of lemonade with round ice cubes (the best for keeping a cold temperature), I felt like such a putz.
This man is saving my beloved cat and all I’m giving him is lemonade. I opened the refrigerator again and retrieved some Pillsbury cookie dough. I quickly laid the cookies on the pan and stuck them in the oven.
Outside, NAME had reached Sarajevo’s nook. I ran to them as NAME had just finished extracting the cat. Sarajevo went running off with a quick little meow.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” I said, as he retracted the ladder back into his sidecar.
“Just doing my job,” he said, which is weird because I thought he delivered grandfather clocks and I don’t know why he would need a ladder for that.
He interrupted my thoughts, “Well, since you don’t seem to have any lemonade today, I guess I’ll be on my way…What’s that smell?… Is something burning?”
Someone save my house!
As I turned around, I feared I would see what I already knew was there. The cookies! My kitchen was engulfed in flames. Without missing a beat, NAME went running towards the house.
“No!!” I screamed and ran after him.
When I reached the kitchen, he was smothering the fire out, using nothing but his skin. I was stunned.
“But, how did you…?”
“Relax,” NAME said, as the last ash burned out. “My skin is fire-retardant. I was born this way… It’s my blessing, and my curse.”
He picked up the glass of lemonade (perfectly fine on the account of the ice cubes) and drank it down in one gulp. I was embarrassed and grateful at the same time.
“If there’s anything I can do to help you, just let me know.”
He furrowed his brow and thought for a minute.
“Well, there is one thing. I might need a letter of recommendation someday. Not today or tomorrow, but someday. Can I count on you?”
Without hesitation, I answered, “You have my word.”
So, sir or ma’am, if you have any sense at all, you will have already hired him by the time you get to this part of my letter. Please hire NAME. He’d make a really, really great firefighter.
Sincerely,
Tia Ayers
