Writing professional emails, help if possible

[Donnie]

21 minutes ago, Mick Dempsey said:

This what you’re after..
 

 

The mist fell softly on Donnie’s broad Celtic shoulders as he took the short walk from his highland cottage to his 4x4 (all paid up and capable of transporting him anywhere on the Scottish mainland within 2 hours) parked in front.

He turned and saw Nessie, the miniature highland cattle who was looking at him from the kitchen window, he silently cursed himself for leaving the back door open, too late now though, she’d be on the sofa glued to Loose Women all morning.

 He loaded up the pick up with a range of powerful professional chainsaws, ranging from 45 to 95cc

He was well used to using them for brushing, felling, road clearance and dangerous trees (certification available on request)

He looked at his log splitter as he climbed in the cab, happy in the knowledge it was CE certified and road legal to tow (under certain speeds of course)

But as he sped into the dreek to another day following a harvester he felt a burning deep inside (not unlike when he spilt hot porridge on his unmentionables) a desire to experience more diverse chainsaw work away from harvesting sites where there was little chance to work on being a better person.

Could he find a company to achieve his ambitions?

Could it be your company?

 

In the heart of the Scottish Highlands, where the hills rolled in waves of emerald and heather, lived Hamish MacLeod, a woodcutter of great renown. Known for his herculean strength and unmatched skill, Hamish wielded a Husqvarna 395xp chainsaw, its roar echoing through the ancient forests of Sitka spruce.

The dawn light filtered through the dense canopy, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Hamish, tall and broad-shouldered, with a wild beard that seemed to blend into the wilderness around him, prepared for another day's work. His chainsaw, gleaming and well-maintained, was ready for action.

Hamish's prowess with the chainsaw was legendary. With a deft hand and an eye for precision, he would fell the towering Sitkas with ease, each tree dropping exactly where he intended. Today, he had set his sights on a particularly massive spruce, its trunk thick and gnarled with age.

He fired up the Husqvarna 395xp, the machine's growl merging with the natural symphony of the forest. The blade bit into the bark, sawdust flying as Hamish expertly maneuvered the saw. His powerful arms worked in tandem, every movement fluid and controlled.

As he worked, thoughts of his family and the future of the forest filled his mind. He had always respected the land, taking only what was needed and ensuring new saplings were planted in place of the fallen giants. It was a tradition passed down through generations of MacLeods, a commitment to balance and sustainability.

And then there was another aspect of Hamish that had become something of a local legend. Not just for his work, but for his immense physical endowment. Whispers and giggles often followed him in the village, but Hamish paid it no mind. It was a part of who he was, and he carried it with the same quiet dignity he brought to his work.

With the final cut complete, the great Sitka spruce began its descent. Hamish stepped back, watching as the tree fell gracefully to the earth, a testament to his skill. He shut off the chainsaw and took a moment to appreciate the stillness that followed.

The forest, momentarily silenced by the fall, seemed to hold its breath before resuming its gentle rustling. Hamish wiped the sweat from his brow, his thoughts turning to the evening ahead. There would be time for a hearty meal, laughter with friends, and perhaps a story or two around the fire.

As he made his way back through the forest, the Husqvarna slung over his shoulder, Hamish felt a deep sense of satisfaction. He was a guardian of the land, a craftsman of the highest order, and a man comfortable in his own skin. And in the quiet, majestic embrace of the Scottish Highlands, that was more than enough.

[Mick Dempsey]

Donnie is a legend.

[GarethM]

These are getting a bit red shoe diaries crossed with Highlander!.

 

As he cried there can be only one and she all dissatisfied quietly whispers if the cash was on the side table 

[GarethM]

Anywho, how many actual companies are we talking. As they'll be more all or nothing I would have presumed and probably against your current employer?.

[manco]

im reminded of joey using a thesaurus when writing a recommendation for monica and chandler as foster parents.

"They're humid, prepossessing Homo sapiens with full-sized aortic pumps."

keep it polite and simple and dont talk shite.

[Squaredy]

2 hours ago, Donnie said:

In the heart of the Scottish Highlands, where the hills rolled in waves of emerald and heather, lived Hamish MacLeod, a woodcutter of great renown. Known for his herculean strength and unmatched skill, Hamish wielded a Husqvarna 395xp chainsaw, its roar echoing through the ancient forests of Sitka spruce.

The dawn light filtered through the dense canopy, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Hamish, tall and broad-shouldered, with a wild beard that seemed to blend into the wilderness around him, prepared for another day's work. His chainsaw, gleaming and well-maintained, was ready for action.

Hamish's prowess with the chainsaw was legendary. With a deft hand and an eye for precision, he would fell the towering Sitkas with ease, each tree dropping exactly where he intended. Today, he had set his sights on a particularly massive spruce, its trunk thick and gnarled with age.

He fired up the Husqvarna 395xp, the machine's growl merging with the natural symphony of the forest. The blade bit into the bark, sawdust flying as Hamish expertly maneuvered the saw. His powerful arms worked in tandem, every movement fluid and controlled.

As he worked, thoughts of his family and the future of the forest filled his mind. He had always respected the land, taking only what was needed and ensuring new saplings were planted in place of the fallen giants. It was a tradition passed down through generations of MacLeods, a commitment to balance and sustainability.

And then there was another aspect of Hamish that had become something of a local legend. Not just for his work, but for his immense physical endowment. Whispers and giggles often followed him in the village, but Hamish paid it no mind. It was a part of who he was, and he carried it with the same quiet dignity he brought to his work.

With the final cut complete, the great Sitka spruce began its descent. Hamish stepped back, watching as the tree fell gracefully to the earth, a testament to his skill. He shut off the chainsaw and took a moment to appreciate the stillness that followed.

The forest, momentarily silenced by the fall, seemed to hold its breath before resuming its gentle rustling. Hamish wiped the sweat from his brow, his thoughts turning to the evening ahead. There would be time for a hearty meal, laughter with friends, and perhaps a story or two around the fire.

As he made his way back through the forest, the Husqvarna slung over his shoulder, Hamish felt a deep sense of satisfaction. He was a guardian of the land, a craftsman of the highest order, and a man comfortable in his own skin. And in the quiet, majestic embrace of the Scottish Highlands, that was more than enough.

And I always thought the forestry cutters worked long hours…. One tree per day doesn’t sound too stressful!

[Donnie]

On 16/07/2024 at 18:59, Squaredy said:

And I always thought the forestry cutters worked long hours…. One tree per day doesn’t sound too stressful!

It is if you send it over your shoulder and through the dyke. 
 

Doug Tait sorted me out so when I take over the forestry and estate game after this email.
 

He is the man that kick started this adventure. 
Maybe, in the distant future, there may be stories of him. 
 

Maybe they will write a story about him… 

[Doug Tait]

Just remember me when I'm too decrepit to be a productive Arb Jake, you can put me in a nice new machine to see my days out!

 

Hope it works out for you.