An Honest Application

Dear Sir and/or Madam (I'm not here to judge),

I am very interested in the opportunity you have available at your company, namely the opportunity to work there five days a week and receive money for doing so. I'm sure you've read a thousand applications by now, so I won't bore you with trite verbiage and cliche lines about how I'd be an excellent fit for this role or how I could maximize synergy through cross-pollinating business units. No, I'll just be up front and completely honest - I am your average, run-of-the-mill goober.

I'm the twelfth row, third from the center

Sure, I have a degree in marketing. But you and I both know you could throw a rock out your office window and it would ricochet off no less than a dozen marketing majors. Charmin might as well print "Bachelors of Science in Marketing" across their comfortably absorbent two-ply double rolls. My marketing degree qualifies me for this job the same way a belly button qualifies me to be President of the United States - it's technically necessary but offers no competitive advantage. What I'm trying to say is that my marketing degree is worthless, unless you have a marketing degree that you're proud of, in which case I am willing to forget I ever wrote this paragraph. Somebody's got to be the bigger man here.

And yes, I do have 8 years of progressive marketing experience in leadership roles. But coming out of the worst economic downturn in modern memory, there are still people out there with 50 years of marketing experience who would mow your grass for a cheese stick. And they would take that cheese stick, eat it like a rabid squirrel, and then viciously attack me with a tire iron for being younger and more likely to be hired. It's cutthroat out there.

"I was marketing cigarettes to children when your daddy was still in diapers, you Twitter-loving hippie!"

I possess the same schooling, knowledge, software skills, and hairstyle as just about every other applicant whose email is in your Outlook folder labeled "Crap, do I have to pick one?" But I'm not writing to get those goobers hired, I'm writing to get me hired. So let me appeal to your sense of reason - statistically speaking, I am one of the applicants. Why not hire me?

If that line of reasoning didn't work, and really it shouldn't have, let me tell you what I do offer that others won't promise:

• I will share my perspective without reservation, and I will passionately stick up for ideas I think best serve the company. Conversely, I will shut my face when I am proven wrong and accept when one of my ideas is bad. It's like my grandfather always told me when I was little, "Henry, even the golden goose still laid turds". Though looking back he always got my name wrong, so maybe that idiom never made any sense...
• I am a bastion of workplace etiquette. I will not force pictures of my ugly kids on you while you are trying to work on reports. I will not clip my toenails at my desk. My laugh is an appropriate volume and cadence, and it is devoid of snorts.

"...and this is Susan. She's starting 3rd grade next year..."

• If some workplace violence breaks out, I will be your biggest asset. Not because of my bravado or karate skills, but because I'm told my shrill, panicked wail is louder than any alarm. This might also happen if there's a spider in the office.
• I will never write you an email this long or this stupid again. You have to admit though, you're still reading it.
• Have I mentioned that new tie and/or dress looks great on you? (Again, not here to judge.)

Normally this is where I'd say that I'm eagerly awaiting a response and reiterate that my goal in life is to work for you until I die and then have my ashes spread on my cubicle. However, in keeping with this cover letter's theme of unabashed honesty I feel compelled to tell you that I do genuinely want to work for your company, but I've also applied to dozens of other companies and will forget all about you until I either receive a rejection letter or a job offer.

Thank you for your time and consideration. I'm going to finish eating this sandwich now.

-Nathan Lee

Resumé attached

Rejection

You couldn't tell it from the frequency of my updates, but I do enjoy writing these blogs. But, I occasionally try my hand at writing for other websites who have an editorial process much more rigorous than Where it Gets Awkward (I am, after all, sharing a bed with the editor). These websites have readerships in the millions, have launched careers, and have editors who all agree that I should convert to the Amish.

Which is fine, because I'd look great with a beard, and they are looking for a very specific and pre-established style which I have yet to master. But what to do with all these rejected submissions?

Behold, my failures!

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excerpt from Bizarre Festivals (for the Pain Enthusiast)

Skewer Yourself at the Phuket Vegetarian Festival

What could possibly be dangerous at a festival with celery-eaters and pacifists, you ask? Plenty, if you're from the Thai city of Phuket (disappointingly pronounced “poo-ket”). Mainly celebrated by the resident Chinese community, participants eat a vegetarian diet during the ten days of festivities to honor the Nine Emperor Gods who saved a group of traveling opera performers from an epidemic of malaria, thus unleashing a new but slightly less painful epidemic upon Phuket of opera. Modern day worshippers aren't content to just do some praying, grill some cucumber kabobs, and call it a festival, however. They make face kabobs. Out of their own faces.

“I momentarily mistook myself for a zucchini”

It is said the mutilation is done in a trance-like state to invoke the gods, who will protect them from pain or severe scarring. It is also said, “AAAAHHHH THAT MAN HAS BEEN IMPALED BY A SWORD! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY CALL AN AMBULANCE!”, but that is usually just by foreigners. The festival goers like to get creative with what they put through their face, and we'd like to think prizes are given out at the end like at a Halloween costume contest. Some of the more interesting facial ornaments include an AK47, a wine glass, hedge clippers, and an umbrella. 

“Does this dress make me look like I have a pirate ship sticking out of my face?”

For the faint of heart who are too cowardly to have their heads turned into giant pin cushions, there are other festival activities to engage in, like walking over burning hot coals and climbing 25-foot ladders made out of blades. If the festival organizers were really sadists they'd make you swan dive off the top of that ladder into a vat of alcohol, so there's at least some proof the Phuketians (Phuketites? Phuketonians?) have sympathy. Oh, and speaking of alcohol, in addition to avoiding meat during the festival participants commit to abstaining from drinking or having sex.

“I wish there was a pool of alcohol at the bottom of this thing”

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A Memo to All Explosion Burger® Employees

To:  All Explosion Burger® employees
From:  Corporate Headquarters
Re: Employee Happiness

EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY

The corporate office has re-evaluated the longstanding policy that all Explosion Burger® employees smile while within the blast radius (defined as all Explosion Burger® property, up to and including the parking lot, dining area, and bathrooms - see Section 117c of your Employee Lawbook). Although no formal or informal customer complaints were ever filed, the policy was enacted to mitigate possible issues with customers encountering less-than-perky attitudes while being provided timely service and delicious hamburgers. However, our marketing research reveals that coerced smiles can be detected by consumers 97% of the time, and of the 97% who will correctly identify your fraudulence, only 93% will Atomicize™ their Missile Meals™ when offered. In light of this recent data, we have no choice but to change this policy.

Therefore, effective immediately, all mandatory smiles and other expressions of happiness are required to be genuine. This includes laughing, fist pumps, heel clicks, squealing, and hugging (reminder: no employee is allowed to hug another employee, customer, or bystander within the blast radius unless the huggee is an immediate family member over the age of 18 – see Section 321g of your Employee Lawbook). In order to determine the genuineness of your smiles a retired FBI body language expert will be added to each franchise location. The agents will analyze facial expressions, gait, blinking frequency, and stool samples to assess your level of happiness. They may also serve as backup fry cook.

Anyone caught faking a smile will be punished. The first infraction earns a verbal warning to be administered via megaphone. Anyone caught the second time will be issued a written warning and sent home to write an essay titled “Ten Reasons Why Working at Explosion Burger® Makes Me Happy”.  Anyone caught the third time will be expelled from employment immediately and will not be eligible to receive their deposit back.

Explosion Burger, Inc. has always striven to provide a relaxing and inoffensive dining experience for families by offering explosive themed hamburgers and t-shirts at blowout prices by exuberant employees. We WILL continue to do so.

Thank you for your deference.

Sincerely,

Harold Q. Oppenheimer
Vice President of Human Resources

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A Time Traveler from the Present in Love in the Past

Dear Clara Beth,

These past few days without you have been agonizing. I often stare at my iPhone, as dead as your neighbor with tuberculosis, and wish I could see your beautiful face on my lock screen. “Slide to unlock” it would say if electrical sockets had been invented yet. “Slide to unlock our hearts.” Oh, sweet, sweet Clara Beth, how I miss your piercing blue eyes! They would have looked so good in HDR or sepia scrolling through my Instagram feed. I would have liked every photo, and I don’t mean in the passive way with feelings. You deserve better than that.

At night when I rest my weary head and close my eyes I have dreams of all the great times we’ve had together. They are random and disjointed memories that last about 6 seconds each and loop endlessly. Oh, how those wonderful, tangled Vines blossomed into our love!

Clara Beth, I want to make us Facebook official. I want to shout our love from the top of Old Man Sanders’ mill and then see if your ex-boyfriend Clyde comments with a frownie emoticon. I will private message him if he does. I will private message him fisticuffs in the pasture behind your barn.

But alas, all I have is this slender black screen in my hand. There is no color, no animation, no life. Just a dark reflection of my lonely face while I wait for your return, darling Clara Beth. When that train finally brings you back from the big city and we embrace, I will turn on my location services and tag you in my heart.

I mean that figuratively, of course, because my iPhone is still regrettably and irreversibly dead. I probably should have thought of this before installing that time traveling app.

Yours forever,

@BarryTheBarista78

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