Sunday, April 26, 2009
I can work. I like to work. Maybe I didn’t work hard enough at my last job but I have learned. I skated and shouldn’t of. I know that now. My rent is due.
My gf says if I don’t get a job fast, she’ll throw my ass out. She will too, she’s like that. So, please. I can’t live with my parents again. I hate that look they give me. They try to be nice, but CripesSake, gimme a break.
Last job, my boss was hard to take. Full of himself, you know the type. I just couldn’t put up with his BS. I must be growing up, I could take it now better. I am getting tired of Oprah, that man-hating beotach, there I said it. I need a job.
I am not picky. I will work hard, I promise. I’ve changed. You can count on me. I will use all my skills, not just the ones I want you to see. I won’t complain as much. I will drink the koolaid as long as it isn’t sugar free. Do you have free coffee? I need a job.
My degree is in, oh, nevermind, it doesn’t fit anyway. I learned to think for myself. God, that was the best lie, like ever, I always knew how to think. I needed more and I didn’t get it, I realize. My parents got screwed out of some serious college money, I think they know. They must. I need a job.
My boss told me exactly what I needed to do to keep my job. I knew better. My way was going to work better than his, what did he know? He’s worked for the same company for, what, 15 years? I am young, new, I have great ideas, I can make mine work, I will show him just how good and brilliant I really am. I need a job.
But then when my ideas don’t work, he blames me, can you believe it? I thought there were no bad ideas, evidently I proved otherwise. I still think those can work for you if you give me a chance. I will try your ideas first this time. You can count on me. I need a job.
What’s up with this insistence on starting exactly at 8:30? I am a morning person, always have been, I think better at night. With coffee, I can make it work for you. I need a job.
I will try to be a nice guy in the office. Just so you know, being surly is sort of my personality, you know. I like being the brooding guy, gives me a rep, you know. Chicks like it. My gf did, at first, now I think she just wants me to get a job. We don’t go to Starbucks as much any more, and I get the small dark roast, and ask for refills. She gets the latte, but if I ask for one, she says “you paying?” Those who have the money make the rules, even in the coffee shop. I will be coolest guy in the office, if that is worth anything these days.
What time is the interview? Can you make it a bit later in the day? What shall I bring? How do I find your office? Will I be meeting the person I will work for? Do you want all of this application filled out? Shall I bring my resume, I think I sent it to you? What is it, exactly, that I will be doing? What do you do there, again?
I need a job.