"That torpedo did not self-destruct. You heard it hit the hull. And I... was never here."
You will not remember me at all. I am better than invisible--I
am faceless. I see the look in your eyes when you're forced to move
around me. You'd much rather pretend you went through me instead
of having to alter your movement by exactly one iota; it's a non-verbal
concession, no matter how small, that I exist. You will not remember
me once I'm out of earshot.
You will not remember me at all. You cut off my 1987 Olds'
with your shiny new SUV, doing 70 MPH on narrow roads while talking on
your cellular phone and managing your three small children in the back
seat. When you're at home bitching to your spouse about all the inconsiderate
jerks you had to deal with at work, you won't remember any of the people
you were inconsiderate to yourself.
You will not remember me at all. I see the look it in your
eyes when you take my resume that it's not your job to actually hire
anyone. You are much more concerned with collecting as many resumes
as possible, so that the corporation can justify your existence by making
their big database of resumes even bigger. You couldn't care less
about my qualifications. Your job is not getting jobs. Your
badge should say "Resume Depository," not "Human Resources Specialist."
You will not remember me at all. I eat at your restaurant
four times a week. I see the brief spark in your eyes when I walk
in the door that you do indeed recognize me, but you try to hide it.
It is much more efficient not to make small talk, you slow down business
that way. You will not remember me once I start eating somewhere
You will not remember me at all. You shook my hand after
a cookie-cutter speech designed to say nothing and offend no one.
You want me to vote for you in November, and yet you really couldn't
care less about me or anyone else's agenda but your own. You couldn't
care less whether the babies you kiss grow up to be scientists or drug
dealers. You will not remember me once you move on to the next
town, the next speech, the next group of undecided voters.
You will not remember me at all. But that's okay, because I
won't remember you either.