Another dream bites the dust

Greatly intrigued by Variant E's suggestion to make a career out of following and firing Mark Myslinski, I started dusting off my résumé in anticipation of sending it to the good folks in the legal department of JPMorgan (me being a lawyer, and all). I just need that secret segue into the hallowed halls so that I could maintain that all important element of surprise. I had visions of strolling into the Creative Department, maybe with a Blow Pop in my mouth a la Kojak, and walking past his office, looking in, smiling, then strolling around some more. He would be appropriately freaked out by the fact that the suit I was wearing cost more than a month's salary for him. He would come flying out of his office and ask me what I was doing there. "Oh, hi! Mike, isn't it? Wait, that's not right...Mark, that's right, Mark," I would reply causally, after taking a few extra tugs on the Blow Pop. "I'm the lead attorney on the XYZ account. I came to see if our prospectus was ready. Have your people finished it yet? It's a big account, you know. If that document isn't finished on time and perfect, I'm going to have to have a very serious talk with your supervisor. See that it's on my desk in an hour. TTFN!"

This scene would be repeated over and over at every investment bank in NYC until he had a nervous breakdown.

Then I remembered these silly little NY State Penal Laws §§ 120.45, 120.50, 120.55, 120.60, which create the crime of "stalking", of which I could conceivably be guilty and for which I conceivably be sentenced to seven years in jail.

As much enjoyment as I could get out of this emotional torture, Mark Myslinski isn't worth seven years in jail.

So, there goes that fantasy. *deep sigh* Oh well. It was fun while it lasted.