I’m coming for you.
Listen up, mother narker
I know what you’re thinking. You’re at work, wearing your power skirts and wrist-control cuff links, and you think that this is just another cover letter, just another piece of pre-trash that you need to skim before taking your 15th M&M break of the day. Turns out the power to control human destinies doesn’t energize like it used to.
Your precious bundles of neurons are throbbing with boredom from the mediocrity of the stack that lies before you. Where is a peer? Where is the employee so detail oriented she counts her Lucky Charms and times herself on the john?
Where is that special someone with the suit-wearing abilities of a psychopath and marketing skills of nervous high-school nerds trying to convince Big Bob he doesn’t want to beat them up? All you want is someone with a degree from every Ivy league university and 59 years of experience that has brought the total costs of running a company down to zero while increasing efficiency by 867 percent. Is that too much to ask?
Well let me tell you something, you open-gobbed hand-shaker. I don’t have any of that crap, and I’m not about to sit here and dump out my purse for you and tell you why my tic-tacs are the best ones for this company and how I really am the go-getter you’re looking for because I punched someone when they tried to cut me in line.
I’ve been out there. I’ve met with the graduates of this generation and I was parented by the last generation and I have some friends who belong to the place in between. You think they have something I don’t? You’re wrong, dead wrong. Your last-season shoes and chipped coffee mug tell the whole, sad story. You’ve spent your life trying to find the best and the brightest in the front displays of department stores, hand picking the newest merchandise that still smells slightly of formaldehyde. Then they come in and what do you get? Beneath their shiny surfaces, they’re turds like the rest of us.
This is the best it gets, sweetie. Leave Nordstroms and you’ll see me there on the street. I’ll be playing a pan pipe and have an overly-exited following of neighborhood dogs. Watch me closer. I’ll take those dogs across the street and trade them to the CEO of a start-up tech company called Whiznit for thirty bucks. I’ll take that thirty bucks and come back to Nordstroms and offer to take you out to a cheap lunch and tell you why I’m the best person for this job. Because let’s face it, you can get a shiny Gucci bag from any street corner in the world, but they only make me in Oklahoma, baked in the close confines of an over-crowded womb and served in a harsh world that doesn’t give out any favors. Hire me.
Sincerely,
Snotting Black
Snotting black 
That’s the sort of Cojones this company needs! I like it! Hits right at the heart of that corporate ‘mambo jumbo’! How you like your eggs? CRACKED- Just like the worry lines in my serious business face! It’s time to take the gloves off….bust out the STEAK MITTENS! I like the cut of your Jib Snotbag…..go see Johnson in Photocopying, you start IMMEDIATELY!
Hahaha….we could make such beautiful music together SB! I’m on board! 🙂
This was a fun read, and although I don’t have a job to offer you, I wish that I did. You are clearly someone who is going places, and this may include other previously unknown dimensions, where time and space may be irrelevant… Or irreverent, which is even better. I find this very intriguing, which is why I’ll always come back to see where you are going, because I know that the possibilities are as limitless as your imagination.
I actually think I will send this in when there’a a job I would love but know I won’t get. At least that way someone will get a laugh.
They can tell a form cover letter right away. Especially when the applicant forgets to change the job title. Its the unique ones that get the callbacks.
On your end- you can see who wears the suit, and whose suit wears them.
Or whose suit I’m going to wear…..
what can I add to the comments already made? I love the letter and it is refreshing to read your blog as it is cynical, funny and really cheers me up on a cold wet Wednesday in June. Whatever you’re using can I have some? Pretty please with a cherry on top…
I’ll sell it to you for a barrel full of rubber chickens. Meet me at the gas station at midnight. You can bring a friend, but only if they bring hot dogs.
I’ve had to wade through a few piles of drek. That one definitely would get you a call-back.
Then it shall be used! Mark my words, it shall be used.
and the truth shall set you free.
You should land a job in journalism.
A one woman pool of raw talent.
Fun read. Good beat.Easy to dance to.
Love it…
My reputation for being a loose cannon and strong tendency to inflate the details to make stories more interesting might not make me a great candidate for journalism, but they don’t know any of that yet.
you’re hired
See you on Monday.
🙂
With a CV like that you should get hired pretty quick 🙂
One can only hope. Also, one can hope that the company provides catered lunches.
I worked in HR forever, and had I seen that letter, I would totally have hired you. Now that I’m looking for a job, I think I’ll take a page out of your book. 🙂
Please do. I’m trying all sorts of crazy strategies, well I don’t know if they’re crazy but they’re certainly strategies. Good luck with job hunt.
If that was in the pile of crap I’ll be interviewing for the next three days, I’d hire you. Wish me luck. It’s back-to-back under-grad placement wannabes for me for until Friday. One slot still available if you want to throw your hat in the ring. Or your tic tacs. Sincerely, Deirdre ‘I can’t stand M&Ms’ Morrison, director of colouring in, Tranquil Space Designs.
All out of tic tacs, but I’ll send along some gummy bears. Hope you survived the drivel.
I think I would write a letter like this if I[d just got back from an awesome trip. Welcome back!
Thanks! This is my manifesto to “the establishment” saying that “yes I want to be paid by you, but I’m still better than you.” I hope it works.
Hell, if I were in HR I’d hire you in a heartbeat. You’re a world traveler, a noted blogger and probably able to pep up those realy boooring coffee breaks where Miss Stacy tells us about her seventeen cats. If you saw me in HR I’d be in a straitjacket.
But each cat has such a different personality! I think my ideal job would actually be corporate clown, sitting in on meetings and throwing out chuckle cluster bombs every now and then. I hope this exists.
Let me assure you, it does exist. However, the problem with corporate clowns nowadays is that they’ve been stripped of most of their collective bargaining rights, in addition to their fake noses, wigs, and proposterously oversized pants. The occupation has been reduced almost entirely to wearing white make-up, telling corporately-approved puns, and performing lighthearted presentations on sexual harrassment in the workplace. Plus, the Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision has ensured that the corporation they work for is equal (in principle) to a human being. That means that previously acceptable insults about corporate policy are no longer tolerated.
As a long-time corporate clown, I deeply lament the loss of my ability to innocently blurt out such laugh-inducers as, “I don’t know what Walmart’s problem is, but I’ll bet it’s hard to pronounce.” Every morning, I have to calibrate my shoes to squeek at exactly the most desirable pitch. And every night, I have to brush and floss my fake teeth to shine with proper veneer.
This is one clown who wears a frown. Please down follow in my footsteps. I beg of you.