Dear Sirs and Mesdames:
I have lately been giving some serious afterthought to my career arc, and I wish to apply to you for your hopeful assistance. I currently serve as a Mosaics Liaison in the Irreparables Section of our Ministry of Crockery. In my capacity, I coordinate disavowed potsherds and similar fragments of every imaginable description with an even wider variety of regional Mosaic artists, who are hungry to assimilate them into their works in progress and in the dream state. With the aid of a fragile and outdated sample case, I am also privileged to represent the Ministry with a smile to the entire artistic community at periodic cultural fairs and conferences of craftspersons. Day after day, my work amounts to meticulous sifting of applications and proposals from such hungry artists, detailing their needs (of color, pattern, quality, weight, style, and substance); checking and double-checking our rotating stock; filing requisitions for stock lots approximating the needs of an artist; arranging for the shipment of received lots to a deserving artist; scrolling thru long exchanges on Mosaic bulletin-board services; and sundry official correspondence. The highest reward for my labor is the honorary esteem of the mosaicists. You would undoubtedly say that I am a mosaicist myself, for an artist may patiently await receipt of certain bits of materials one week, and others the next, until the vision is complete. Snappy judgment is often the hallmark of my work, and it all keeps me on the hop every day. Howsoever and still, the suspicion grows upon me that my service in a future time and place would be preferably self-fulfilling. When my Ministry colleagues prankishly drop the odd plate outside my office door, my certainty is compounded.
If you will permit me a personal digression, I feel pressed to admit that my crisis is perpetuated by the late ultimatum of my lifelong love partner. Over tea one afternoon, he characterized my urgent need to address a work-life imbalance of his imagination. You will agree that this was manifestly unfair, as I reserved the largest pieces of my time away from the Ministry and official duties for his entertainment. His abdication, followed headlong by persistent reminders of him among the small segments of domestic life in other homes, has ushered me into a cloud of ennui and reflection. These have led to my current search for opportunities beyond our province.
With everything finally said, I return to the heart of my appeal. As an admirer from afar of your nation’s expensive contributions to science, agricultural tradition, and liberal social policies, I dream of a chance at their closer appreciation. If you would make inquiries about your confederates to discover any opportunity for a person of my background to put his weight behind your struggle up the hill to greatness, my gratuity would be unbound. I would like to emphasize that I have no objection to stretching in different directions. In fact, new professional challenges might join hands with new surroundings fittingly, with a different horizon at every turn.
You will accept my regret that I cannot offer a reference from the Ministry directly. Instead, I direct all questions about my character to the mosaicist Carlos Ignatius. His works are representative of our regional style, and countless feet have stood toe to toe with them. Many lots of materials that have passed between my fingers over the years have found their way to his studio. I hope you will find sufficient information enclosed to reach him there. If Ignatius cannot convince you what a new start would mean for me, you will never be convinced.
I await a response with reckless anticipation. With a light heart and shiny shoes, I am:
Your cheerful servant,
Suebian Ministry of Crockery
Irreparables Section, Rm. 328