The Road to Earning the Editor’s Forgiveness
Can you really put a price on a healthy working relationship?
I did something terrible. I sent a potentially passive-aggressive response to an editor after my article got rejected.
Is my note actually as rude as I believe it to be? I don’t know. Everything I say feels wrong to me. Will this just draw attention to my blunder? I hope not.
All I know was that I was mildly annoyed when I wrote the note. I can’t allow it to be taken the wrong way. That’s why I’m going to double down. Sextuple down. Nay, centuple down!
I won’t rest until I’ve redeemed myself.
A heartfelt note
You can’t go wrong with a handwritten note. I love getting letters in the mail. It’s a dying tradition. Maybe dead and buried already, depending on which generation you ask.
But so what?
If it means healing the damage I might’ve done, I’m willing to dig up the body and breathe life back into its decaying, maggoty lips. Pucker up and receive new life.
Note to self: remember to get mouth wash after this is done. I need to get rid of that envelope taste.
Sure, I have no address to send a letter to, but I can’t let silly logic get in the way of making amends.
Oh my god, my handwriting is utter garbage. I’m trying to write for a living. This is unacceptable.
Flattery
No one likes a suck-up. My rampant anxiety may tell me to lavish praise even though I know nothing about this person, but I’m going to reign myself in. Go about this intelligently and carefully.
Keep it cool.
Precision is usually the way to go, but without intel, I can’t include much specific detail.
Hm. Not a dealbreaker.
Fortune tellers rely on vague predictions that can apply to anyone,and some people love them. Supposedly.
I’ll do something similar. I’ll keep the compliments general enough that no matter who this editor is there’ll be no choice but to be charmed.
“Hey… you. Nice. Two thumbs up.”
Gah. I’m not Roger Ebert, what’s with the thumbs up?
Cry loudly and profusely
Crying makes people uncomfortable. Maybe if I cry enough the situation will become so awkward that my apology will be accepted.
“What about my dignity?” you might ask.
Ha!
You can’t kill what never existed.
Bribery
Paying a group to accept my content might seem backward since most people prefer the opposite, but I assure you, it makes perfect sense in my mind. I’ll fork over as much as I need to.
I mean, I would. But since times are tough, I can’t guarantee a quality bribe.
I can offer the crisp $14 in my wallet though! Plus all the spare change I found in the couch cushions the last time I cleaned. I’d scrounge up more, but since schools remain stubbornly closed, stealing the lunch money from children like I normally would is impossible.
It’s fine. I’ll scavenge and dumpster-dive until I have the proper amount to restore my reputation. I can say, with pride, that nothing is beneath me.
Seppuku
If all else fails, seppuku will save me.
The ritual cutting of one’s belly was a supreme act of repentance for samurai the world over… in Japan. But It secured their honor even in the face of great shame.
I’m half Japanese so this should only half count as cultural appropriation.
Seppuku. Then profit.
The plan
I’ve decided. These are all such good ideas that I’m doing them all. Here’s how I envision it:
- Rob a bank for the bribe money.
- Stuff an envelope with said money, along with a nice (typed) note for the editor.
- Cut open a bladder of pig’s blood to make it look like I disemboweled myself. I’m too much of a massive coward for actual seppuku.
- Scream positive affirmation for the editor between loud sobs.
- Flee back home to check my emails for confirmation that all is forgiven.
- Realize no one’s going to know what this was all about.
- Despair.
