Sunday, November 21, 2010

Looking for work on Craigslist #1

Scumbag in search of honest work.

Hey there, prospective employers in the resume section. I bet you're tired of dishonest individuals who keep it fake, emailing you 20x a day with resumes no more enticing than day-old McFranken meat. You read the resume, invite them over, and they show up dressed in a half-hearted impression of a Gap ad from last season. Then they speak, and their mouth-breathing social retardation foreshadows their future as the next Seung-Hui Cho. Why deal with that? Look no further, I'm your scumbag.

What would you like to know, employer? Sure, you can look at my real resume, with all its propriety and formality, but it strips you of identity. You're looking at 1s and 0s and trying to pin a personality type, but you're not Johnny 5, and neither am I. What does listing basketball and swimming as hobbies really say about a person? Not a goddamn thing. No one ever puts down, "I like to use the word twat a lot," or "throwing ceramic statues at my sister's head," so you'd never guess I'm a fan of both.

What sets me apart? You get the truth. I'm scum up-front. No lies, here. My real resume is entirely honest. Although like Werner Herzog I adhere to subjective truth. Sure, I may not exactly have spent a semester overseas, but no one charges Batman for denting a dumpster while beating down rapist thugs. Means to an end, my friend. Perhaps I didn't design Linux, but the amount of research I put into pretending shows great ambition and creative prowess. Like Tony Montana, I always tell the truth, even when I lie.

I don't have any skills a robot won't be replacing in 20 years. Yet there have to be things only a scumbag can do. For example, if you find recycling too complicated and stressful, I can throw it away in the regular bin shamelessly and guilt-free. Want that Easy Mac ready with minimal burning? Do you have trouble reading Poptart instructions? Call me scumbag jack of all trades. Hire me for birthday parties or pranks. Have me educate children by being a breathing example of why goals are important. Have me be the guy who strokes his beard and ogles women to the point of discomfort from across the counter. I don't know that it's a career, but I imagine I could do it adequately. Don't worry about messy tax work, I'll take payment in cash, beer, brandy, or a pale female friend dressed in reindeer antlers. Speaking of which: dislike your sister? Set us up on a date where she'll learn first hand of my motto, "Second base is never rape." Tired of friends who overstay their welcome? I'll be their reason to leave. In that way I'm a people person. I like getting up close and cozy with them, while eating whatever food I got stored in the raggedy pocket of my blazer that day. People person, you know, belittling their beliefs, affirming that the universe is indifferent, starting long dialogues about farm life and septic tank maintenance. Or say you've made enemies over the years, I am the perfect partner to plot revenge with. The great joy of creating a devious ploy and maiming a foe is severely underrated.

As much of an asshole as I am, I'm limited on my ideas for work. Divulging my full repertoire is limited for legal reasons. This is where you come in. Find me work, whether noble or otherwise. I will be grateful and do my best to refrain from calling you a twat in person. If you're kind-hearted and looking for someone like-minded, don't: it's still the proper Christian thing to hire me above consequential candidates before I begin a life of beggary and take a turn for the worst. Forgive me. Church.

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