Dear President Obama,
While I think it’s really nifty that you want to come back to our fabulous digs and hang out with us cool Southern Californian’s for the second time within a month, I feel I must pipe up.
Let me just say that I can’t really blame you for wanting to have tea at Will and Jada’s house and share some salted margaritas with Antonio Banderas at his house as Lord knows I certainly would… but here’s the thing. There’s this big ass pile of resumes on my desk and those people? From those resumes? Seventy five percent of them probably voted you into office because they expected BIG THINGS from you. You were going to “fix” all this, especially our rotten economy and most importantly to them and their starving, worried-they-won't-have-shelter-for-long families, our unemployment issues.
So while it’s real fun for you to come into town, jack up our traffic, visit with celebrities and chat with Jay Leno on his show, all those people whose resumes are on my desk? With all due respect, they’d like you to return to YOUR pretty desk, sit behind it some more and figure out how the hell to help them.
Thank you for your ear,
A Concerned Citizen & Recruiter