In response to your letter, I regret to inform you that the license plate cover you saw was for New World Auto. It’s a used car place. But these aging, sputtering vehicles are anything but “new.” And I’ve been working here for years and, in fact, it’s gotten quite old. So I suppose it's ironic that you’ve written in search of a “new world” because you’re not likely to find one here.
However, something has just occurred to me. It's strange that you should write at such a time. I’ve been quite troubled myself, for a number of reasons, the more personal of which I won't get into just yet. But I’ve been troubled nonetheless.
I hate my job. This may seem like a trivial problem, but you have no idea. I’d love to find a new world myself, it's funny that here is where I’m stuck. Call it a rut if you will, if you can tolerate the cliché. Really it’s much more than that, more than a rut. You could say that I’ve been searching for something. A purpose perhaps, something other than this mind-numbing, lie-tossing job where I get paid to deceive people. And I don’t even get paid that well. Trying to convince people that they’re getting a good deal, when I know that in a year or less, their investment will be more trouble than it was ever worth, well, that’s not my idea of a good time. In fact, it makes me sick. You see, I think that what I need now is an escape. I would like to dive deep into a world of change and thought. I would like to live my life, rather than watch it slip away, pieces of it packed away in the musty trunk of each car I sell.
But that aside, where I’m really going with this is that I think this is something. You, I mean. Something new. I don’t know what this could be, and I know that this isn’t what you were expecting when you first wrote to me, but we should meet. I feel that we should. Maybe it would be good for the both of us. I think so.
Sincerely,