Dear SirDear Sir or Madam,
I recently purchased a new pair of swimming trunks (blue with white piping), which, in retrospect, was an act of the sheerest optimism, as I first was required to obtain a new key card for the pool from your crack management company.
Almost a month later, I have still been unable to do so.
In the twenty-seven days that have elapsed since my first contact with your staff, I have become increasingly concerned for their welfare. I strongly advice you to check on them immediately; I am quite certain you will find them out wandering in the car park, unable to find their way into the building. I also strongly recommend that you consider the summer heat and the complexity of possible hydration issues if they are outside and lost for extended periods of time, or, heaven forbid, they accidentally lock themselves inside their cars.
By way of comparison, the Apollo XI mission flew to the moon, vacationed briefly, and returned in only eight days. Entire wars have been fought to conclusion in less than twenty-seven days, including the Six-Day Israeli-Arab War in 1967 (if this comes up in casual conversation with your staff, and they have any uncertainties about the length of this conflict, by all means, please consult Wikipedia).
In the spirit of full disclosure, I should inform you that did receive a key card five days ago. Imagine the surge of excitement as I beheld its almost-glowing white surface. Putting on my new swim trunks once more, a wave of optimism rushed over me. Our long national nightmare was nearly over. I proceeded immediately to the pool, which was oddly empty for such a warm day. It remained empty, for the new key card did not work. Instead of frolicking in dolphin-like joy in the sparkling waters confined within, I was reduced to looking through the gated bars, much as a small child might look at a toy store during the holiday season, unable to comprehend why Santa Claus has been placed into a medically-induced coma.
In the intervening days, I have discovered that many other people in the neighborhood have faulty key cards. All of them, in fact. The pool is an impenetrable fortress. I did, however, see two people swimming yesterday. I can only conclude that they climbed over the fence, which should trigger a long overdue review of your security procedures.
I am not entirely lacking in sympathy towards the administrative labyrinth, this angry procedural hydra, that must be thwarting your best efforts. To that end, in lieu of a key card, I would accept a ladder. Alternatively, perhaps an employee could meet me at the gate and give me "a boost" to facilitate a daring fence ascent. Please do not have them bring their swimming attire, as I will not be asking them to join me.
I will send along instructions to enable you to contact my descendants if, in years hence, a key card is procured. Thank you for your attention to this matter.
P.S. I saw the company in charge of cleaning the pool hard at work yesterday. I predict they will have a stellar season.