To My Building Manager

I’m so sorry.

I’m not racist, I swear it. It’s just … well you look a lot like the last guy. What with the beard and the, um, kinda rough skin. I’m not saying you all look alike, but well … ya kinda do.

Anyway, I liked your predecessor, we got on well. We shared an interest in the current day’s weather. And his name really was Mohammed. So you see, I haven’t been calling you Mohammed these last few months only because you’re wearing a turban. I really thought you were Mohammed. “Hey Mohammed”, “How ’bout this weather Mohammed”.

I had been wondering why you’d stopped being so friendly to me all of a sudden, it makes sense now I realise you’re actually a different person with a different name.

I feel just awful that it came to the point that you snapped and screamed at me “Dude, my name isn’t fucking Mohammed, stop fucking calling me Mohammed you racist cunt. My name’s Alex. Fucking Alex!”

I’m not sure that the volume was required, we were the only two in the lift, and the lift was otherwise quite quiet. But I know your people have a bit of a temper so I guess you can’t really control that.

Anyhoo, have a lovely day and don’t forget to come and get me if the building is on fire.

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