Dear Philip Morris,
Please consider this letter and my attached resume as my application for Brand Manager within your company. I am confident that you will find me a qualified candidate with a well-defined long-range vision for insuring the continued profitability of the Philip Morris brand.
Once upon a time I was a consumer of your products. My husband Johnny was, too, until we lost him to the cancer. I’ve seen many relatives die after battling long illnesses, but do you have any idea what it’s like to watch someone die of lung cancer, Philip Morris? I wish you could have heard him beating on the walls, begging to die as quickly as possible.
Can you appreciate how many of my hopes and dreams went to the grave with Johnny? We were supposed to be putting a roof on the house this year. We were finally going to be able to afford to take our youngest daughter Ellen to the doctor to see about her lazy eye. We had plans to buy of those inner tubes with the built in coolers so that we could spend lazy summer days floating down the river with ice cold beer. Have you ever known such carefree plans, Philip Morris?
I think you owe me this job. I might not have some fancy college degree or any marketing experience, but how can you compare those things to the education I have received from life, Philip Morris?
Help me dry my kids’ tears and put Hamburger Helper on the table. Help me to get the dog some flea and tick medication—dear God, we are being eaten alive in here Philip Morris. Help me buy the fancy panties I’m going to need to snag me a new man to help support us.
Please don’t be an asshole about this, Philip Morris. I look forward to speaking with you soon.
Sincerely,
Amie [censored]
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