Dear Secretary of State,
I'm sorry to say this, but I kind-of hate you. You're like the person whose phone number I keep in my phone simply so I'll know not to answer when you call. And just when I think you've gotten the message, right around my birthday you like to check in to make sure I still remember you.
You want me to remember that I owe you money for my car tabs, and I suppose that's fine. But really, it's the way you go about all this that gets me mad. You try to be like, "Hey, I just want you to know that I still know all about you! If you want, I'll just make it easy for you. Just go online, shoot me an email or something, and we'll be all good."
And then I get all relieved because I won't have to actually talk to or visit you, and I try to go online when suddenly, something catches my eye on my form. Are you kidding me, SOS? You still have my maiden name listed? Even though I spent 3 hours with you last year getting these shenanigans straightened out (when I was approximately a ZILLION years pregnant, might I add. And you didn't even make a single one of any of the other waiting able-bodied citizens give me a seat, so I had to stand on my swollen ankles for a majority of those three hours).
So of course, when I read your little annual love note, it says that if there are any changes, I can't file online. And then I further noticed that you have not updated my records to show that I no longer have my stupid old Sebring, but a sleek "new" van (that I did NOT use to back into a shopping cart last week. Where did you even get that idea?). So now I just don't know what to do. I certainly don't want to have to deplete my precious personal leave time from work to come sit in your smelly, crowded office so I can "sort out" everything with you (since it appears that even doing this will never sort anything out). I especially don't want to do this because I have a sneaking suspicion that you will give me the run-around and tell me that I have to leave to go visit someone else I don't want to see, then come back to you and wait for three more hours to talk to you again. For someone who so desperately wants to get in touch with me, you sure do play hard to get when I finally bite.
Secretary of State, things would be so much better if you would just stop being such a loser. I mean, I see your purpose and I totally validate your existence. And come on, aren't we both secretaries here? Isn't there some sort of sisterhood in all of this? I'm sure we both know the pitfalls and difficulties of this job. So instead of being a royal biotch, why don't you just chill out a little. Come over to my place, have a cup of tea, and we'll watch Project Runway. Or hey, Grey's Anatomy starts back up this week. I'm sure you like Grey's. I'll even bake you some cookies.
Can we call a truce? Or, at the very least, can you pretty please promise to actually update my information when I inevitably have to make the horrible trek over to your turf? It's bad enough that I have to pay $100 right around my birthday for something as boring as this. Can't you just make my life a little bit easier?
Thanks ever so much.