Wednesday, June 25, 2008

An open letter to cokeheads

Dear Friends,

You know that doctor that calls you to talk about your drug test? Well, there's no easy way to say this...I'm that guy. I'm what we in the party-pooping industry call an MRO - a certified Medical Review Officer. I know - sounds made up. Anyway, yes, I am the one who calls you and - well, I have to assume from the way that you usually sound when you answer - interrupts your good time with friends to notify you that you will not be funding your habit with a real job any time soon. This isn't the most pleasant work sometimes. Despite what you might think, I take no joy in calling. But I've noticed something you should be aware of. You guys are making this too easy for me. It's almost like you're all reading from the same playbook. Just know that if it seems a logical way to counter me, believe it or not, somebody else already thought of it and has tried it. About a thousand times. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to truly invent something unique???
Anyway, I have decided to write this letter in order to save you the trouble of embarrassing yourself in your attempts to convince me that some terrible mistake has been made. There are a few of you that are really, really good. Keep that up, folks. You are almost (almost) believable. It makes this much more entertaining for me, and believe me, the money isn't all that good so entertainment is about all I'm getting out of this. So here is a little help for you. If we are going to have to spend this time together, we might as well sort this out.

First of all, you must realize how alike you all sound. So much so, in fact, that I have decided that it is not even you talking. It is cocaine. I don't know you, it's true. But cocaine? Ah, I know cocaine very well - at least from a distance.

Cocaine is one gregarious character. You just find yourself wanting to believe cocaine. He has a zest for life that is infectious. To be sure, he usually outlasts all his friends, leaving them a miserable, tired wreck. But they love him all the more. Oh, don't try and cover for him. You'll only look silly. Cocaine does a fine job protecting himself, thank you very much.

Cocaine is also the eternal optimist. No matter how many times we've spoken, he always insists on playing our little game...I let him know I've found him in someone's urine, he vehemently denies it, cursing me, the prospective employer, etc. He is especially fond of threatening to call his attorney on me. In typical fashion, I assume that his attorney is Mark Geragos or someone high-profile. Why wouldn't it be? This is cocaine we're talking about here, right?!?

But, in the end, cocaine knows I have him dead to rights. He'll talk a good game, but he knows when he should leave the party. After all, only amateurs make principled but doomed stands. And cocaine has been around this block a time or two. At least.

So the next time you get a call right after you've gone to sleep at one-o'clock in the afternoon and you don't recognize the number - that is, if you still have your phone - just answer it, okay? I won't be a jerk. And save yourself the trouble and exhaustion of feigning outrage and bandying your threats about. I know who I'm dealing with here. And tell cocaine I said hello. I'll catch up with him later on.