Thank You for the Opportunity to Interview with Your Company

Thank you for the opportunity to interview with your company.

I am sure you have read my resume and have realized how qualified I am for this position. In fact, I am simultaneously overqualified and under-qualified, allowing my qualifications to surround you. So watch your back, because I could qualify you from any direction.

I know you appreciated the many fonts that I used. You may think that my resume is handwritten on a dirty scrap of paper, but that is just because I used premium fonts, which I purchased from premium font websites. My resume deserves only the very best fonts, because I am the very best.

What can I bring to the table? Many things, including chairs, briefcases, and bagged lunches. If there is free food available, I may even bring friends who don’t work here.

I can take a lot from the table as well, especially office supplies.

Where do I see myself in five years? Hopefully riding a hover-board. I know that kind of technology is unlikely to exist in the near future, but I guess I’m just an optimist. Is optimism not a good trait for a job applicant to have?

In fact, I am so optimistic that I believe time travel will be possible in the near future as well. So when you ask where I see myself in ten years, please clarify which parallel timeline you are referring to.

My greatest weakness is probably a baseball bat with barbed wire wrapped around it, because those things look really painful, right?

A baseball bat with barbed wire wrapped around it is also my greatest strength,when I’m the one holding it.

I have vast experience in this field, as well as in other fields, particularly the cornfield on my grandfather’s farm. Admittedly, he was not my grandfather in the technical sense. But I did live undetected in that field for several years.

You could definitely say that I’m a team player. I really consider myself more of a mascot, though. I believe that makes me the most valuable player on the team. It also means that I should be allowed to wear a bear costume to work.

I work well under pressure. Air pressure, preferably, but I could survive under water pressure if necessary.

How did I leave my previous job? Out the window and down the fire escape. Don’t ask me anything else about that. I swear, I’ll do it again if I have to.

Have I ever had to fire someone? Are you insinuating that I may be some sort of pyromaniac? Didn’t I just warn you not to ask about my last job?

Why yes, I do have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.

What is your company’s policy on overtime? Can I stay in the office all night if I have to? Is there any sort of restriction on having a sleeping bag inside my cubicle? What about having multiple sleeping bags, so that some of them can act as decoys?

Actually, for the decoy sleeping bags to work, I will need to buy several mannequins. May I count that as a business expense?

By the way, I noticed that you never asked if I would be willing to relocate. Is that an option? Because I would absolutely relocate. The farther away from here, the better. Does your company have branches in other countries?

No, those aren’t sirens that you hear out the window—that’s just my phone’s ring tone. Please ignore the policeman yelling on the loudspeaker, and let’s get back to discussing relocation. Don’t worry about my family, I can contact them later. And I don’t even need any bags. If you have a car ready, I will relocate right now. Seriously.

By the way, I am also proficient in Microsoft Excel.

Thank you for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you.

Your Goatee Makes You Look Like An Evil Submarine Captain

Alright, man. You may not want to hear this. You may not want to believe it. But enough is enough: I think I speak for all of us when I say that your goatee makes you look like an evil submarine captain. There, now it’s out in the open. You know that it’s true. The first step is admitting it.

No, it’s not an unusually specific analogy. Just imagine an evil submarine captain. Not a fat one—a fat, evil submarine captain would have a scar and an eye-patch. I’m talking about a tall, lanky guy. Are you imagining him? Yeah? I bet he has a goatee. Your goatee. Because it’s you. You’re looking in a mirror. And it's actually not a mirror. It's a porthole.

Shocking, I know, but we’re all here for you, and we’re going to get through this together.

Why did you grow that thing in the first place? Thought it would make you look cool? Well you’re wrong. There’s nothing cool about submarines, except maybe for bathyspheres, but that’s all.

I liked the old you. Sure, you kind of looked like a kooky bus driver, but there’s nothing wrong with that! It’s just who you are. I bet that this whole evil submarine captain thing is just a phase, and soon you’ll get over it.

But I really can’t wait any longer. This phase has gone on long enough, and that’s why I’ve gathered all of your friends and family to talk with you today. Just shave it off. Please. For the sake of our friendship. Seriously, remember when we ran into each other at the coffee shop yesterday? You said, “What’s up?” but honestly, all I heard was “I am armed with a dozen nuclear-tipped warheads, and I will fire on major cities around the globe unless my demands are met.” Also, I refused to give you a ride home because I was worried you might hijack my car and drive it off a pier.

I can’t even watch funny movies with you anymore, man. It’s your laugh. Maybe I’d be able to tolerate it if it just sounded evil. But it’s worse than that: there’s a sort of echo to it that I never noticed before, and I always feel like I can hear heavy machinery and salvage equipment whirring in the background. You may be sitting in the chair right next to me, but you sound like you’re sunk hundreds of feet beneath the waves, just like that damn goatee is sinking our friendship.

You think we can just talk on the phone? Wrong. I know that goatee is there. I can hear it in your voice. And suddenly our small talk about the football game on TV turns into a coded negotiation for the safe release of the sailors being held hostage in your living room. Come on, let those men go. Some of them have wives and kids. How many families must your goatee destroy before you get rid of it?

The old you would never do something like that. But then, I guess you’ve changed. You think I don’t know that you hang out at the docks every night? I’ve been following you, dude. But I don’t even have to do that to realize what you’ve become. I know that you’ve been taking baths instead of showers. I hear you whistling sea shanties while walking down the street. You’ve even stopped eating “hoagies,” and started eating “subs.” It freaks me out.

I think I’ve made my points clear. I’m sorry if this seems like a lot to handle, but we needed to do this before you got worse—if we waited any longer, you might have grown out your sideburns too, and well... then we’re into maniacal-zeppelin-pilot territory. There’s no turning back from that.

But at this stage, there’s still hope of recovery. In fact, I signed you up for a special support program. Don’t be afraid: they’re not going to ask you to shave the entire goatee off at once. You can start by getting rid of the beard part, and then the mustache will just make you look like a regular old submarine captain. But you can’t stop there. You need to have willpower. When it comes to removing a goatee, if you fall off the wagon, there’s no hope of getting back on.

Because in this case, the wagon is actually a submarine, and if you fall off then you’re going to be eaten by a shark.

Man's Best Friend

They say that a dog is a man's best friend, but they're wrong: I'm a man, and my best friend is Steve.

Steve is a better friend than a dog could ever be. If I want to hang out, I can call Steve any time, day or night, and he'll be right over, as long as it's not night. I've never even seen a dog pick up a phone, unless it was a phone specially designed for dogs, with a keypad that could be operated with paws instead of fingers. But that special dog-phone? I bet Steve could still use it, maybe even better than a dog could.

You tell your dog to "speak," and he just barks. Yet when Steve speaks, he makes all kinds of noises. Your dog doesn't even speak English; Steve not only knows English, he also remembers a little Spanish from high school. Did your dog go to high school? If he did, I'm very impressed, but I'm also kind of intimidated, so I don't think he and I could ever be friends.

Your dog can catch a frisbee in his teeth? What kind of friend would do that? Now your frisbee is all gross. Steve can catch frisbees both in and out of his teeth. Let's see a dog do that.

And don't tell me about those "Air Bud" movies, because they use special effects. Give Steve a green-screen and he can be a champion athlete too. Air Bud probably even has a stunt-dog to do all the more dangerous tricks. Do you think Steve is afraid to do his own stunts? No way. The only thing that he's afraid of are magicians, due to a bad experience he had as a child.

True, you make a few valid points: Dogs are nice and furry. Steve is hairy too, but in more of a "needs to take a shower" way than a "cuddly" way. Dogs are content with sleeping in the backyard, while Steve still complains about the time that I abandoned him in the woods. And Steve is only loyal to me when he's in a good mood and not currently being loyal to our other friend, Tom.

You say that your dog is your best friend because when you get home from work, there he is by the door, waiting for you. Well, when I get home from work, there's Steve by my television, waiting for me to bring him some pretzels. I guess dogs win that round too.

But dogs aren't allowed in most restaurants, while Steve is only banned from that fancy Italian place across the street.

Plus, do you know any dogs who can name all 50 states, or play the violin, or help you move furniture around? No? Steve can do one out of three, which is better than nothing.

You see, a dog is not your friend. Friendship is supposed to be a two-way deal, but dogs benefit without doing any work: they get free food, a free place to sleep, and sometimes a free dog-phone with special keypad. They do nothing to deserve this. So I wonder who said that a dog is a man's best friend?

Gee, I don't know... maybe it was a dog?!

(Or maybe it was Steve. That guy really knows how to get me riled up.)

Nobody Said It Would Be Easy

Listen up, because I don't want to hear any complaining after we begin: nobody said it would be easy.

Where did you hear that it would be easy? I didn't hear that, and my hearing is pretty good. So now hear this: Nobody said that.

If somebody did say that it would be easy, they were lying. Sorry to get your hopes up. Please keep your hopes in plain sight and lower them, slowly.

Sure, nobody said it would be hard. And nobody said it would be medium either. But nobody said it would be easy.

To be fair, I did say that it would be simple. And one guy said that it would be like taking candy from a baby. Someone else said that it would be a piece of cake. Maybe you heard one of us and misunderstood.

That man who compared it to a piece of cake: Did he specify what kind of cake? No. It could be a pound cake, or perhaps a carrot cake. We have no way of knowing.

But here's something we do know: It's unknown whether it will be easy.

And that other man who compared it to taking candy from a baby: Did you think that meant it would be easy? Well what you didn't realize is that this is actually a genetically-modified super baby, and it is very hungry for candy. You think it's going to be easy to take that candy? This baby will put up quite a fight.

Why did you assume that it would be a normal baby in the first place? Nobody said it would be a normal baby.

I also hope you understood that this whole baby thing was just an analogy. We will not actually be stealing snacks from infants (nobody said it would be a perfect simile). Though if we were, you can rest assured that nobody would claim that it would be easy to do so.

That part was hypothetical as well: Nobody said you could rest.

I bet you thought that it would be fast too, but it could take a while. Why, do you have something better to do? Somewhere else to be? You better clear your schedule for the next few weeks. You may have to work weekends too. Don't worry though, nobody said they expect you to come in before 10:30.

Did you think that it would make you happy? You're going to be sadly disappointed, because it will actually make you sad and disappointed. And if you thought that we'd all come out clean, then you've been grossly misinformed, because it will be pretty gross.

Look, I know that nobody said it would be easy to understand. But do you actually know anything about what's about to go on? You seem to have heard a lot of things that nobody said. Please, just try to pay attention, because nobody is going to repeat anything. Especially the things that they didn't say, like how easy this may be.

Okay. Ready? Let's get started.

By the way, if it does turn out to be easy, nobody heard any of this from me.

Message in a Bottle

I’m sorry to disturb your nice day at the beach, but wait! Don’t toss this back into the ocean! I know what you’re thinking: “A message in a bottle? How clichéd." Just give me a moment of your time, and then you can get right back to boogie-boarding.

Admittedly, my story is not unique. I’m the survivor of a plane crash on a desert island, just like the authors of many other messages in bottles you’ve likely read today. And fine, many of those other messages in bottles were probably wittier, or more poetic, or more inspiring than mine. But I’m tired, and I'm hungry, and my legs are still trapped under some shrapnel, so this is the best I could do.

My penmanship? Fine, I don’t have the best handwriting. But it’s hard to write on a piece of scrap paper that’s caked in blood. Plus, this pen doesn’t really work that well: it’s one of those ones with the button on top that you press to make the tip pop out, instead of a nicer pen with a cap. Unfortunately, it was the only one I could find in the charred suitcase that crash landed in the sand next to me. All the other luggage fell a few feet away and I can’t reach them because of the chunk of metal that I’m buried under, and also because I’m not very flexible. I took an aerobics class last year, but I didn’t like the instructor, so I quit after one lesson. I promise that after I get rescued, I’ll start working out more. It’s just so hard to find the time.

I’m going to get so sunburned laying out here. Or should that be “lying” out here? Please ask the search party to look that up before they look for me.

I wish there were other survivors so I’d have people to talk to. Preferably survivors from other sections of the plane, not anyone who was sitting near me. I was in a window seat next to a rude old man who kept snoring while he napped. When I tried to squeeze past him to use the bathroom, he woke up and seemed really annoyed, so I ended up holding it in for the entire flight, and now I really have to go. Don't get me started on the baby in the seat behind us.

Also, why couldn’t the plane crash 20 minutes later? I was watching the in-flight movie, and now I may never know how it ends.

Maybe it’s for the best: I didn’t really enjoy the movie anyway, because I had to listen to it on those crummy airplane headphones that they give out. Anyway, I couldn’t focus because I had to worry about maintaining my armrest position. I know that I said the rude old man was asleep next to me, but every time I stopped paying attention and then looked back, he was taking up more space on the armrest between us. When we hit turbulence, I had nothing to hold on to. He took the entire armrest for himself.

I should have bought one of those pillows that they sell on the plane. Then I could at least be comfortable while stuck under this wreckage. Once the plane started going down, I asked the flight attendant if it was too late to buy one, but she just ignored me.

I’m sorry if this is starting to ramble... I probably shouldn’t have chugged all the liquor in this bottle in order to make room for my message. But anyway, I should tell you where I am so that you can send help. This scrap paper is very small, and I’m running out of room to

Easy Money

Andy: "Man, I gotta get a job or something. I'm so low on cash right now."

Steven: "Why don't you just rob a bank?"

Andy: "Haha, right."

Steven: "No, seriously. I do it all the time."

Andy: "What? Rob banks?"

Steven: "Sure. Been doing it for years. I'm probably wanted in like a dozen states by now."

Andy: "I can't tell if you're joking or not."

Steven: "You should go rob the bank on 34th street. I just hit them up this morning, so they probably won't expect to be robbed twice in one day."

Andy: "This is crazy."

Steven: "...Yeah, you're right. They won't have that much money left, since I already cleared them out."

Andy: "The robbery that was all over the news last week... That was you?"

Steven: "I robbed at least three places last week. You need to be a bit more specific."

Andy: "I don't believe this. How can you rob banks?"

Steven: "With a ski-mask. You can borrow mine if you want."

Andy: "I'm not borrowing your ski mask."

Steven: "Then you'll at least need a getaway car. Do you have a car?"

Andy: "No."

Steven: "It's alright, there's a dealership a few blocks from here. You can just steal one of theirs."

Andy: "How do you expect me to steal a car?"
  
Steven: "With a gun."

Andy: "I don't have a gun."

Steven: "Steal one from a gun store."

Andy: "That's got to be the most dangerous possible place to steal something from."

Steven: "Good point. You should probably just buy the gun."

Andy: "I don't have the money!"

Steven: "So rob a ba–... hm... or blackmail somebody. That works too."

They stare at each other. Andy is seemingly in shock.

Andy: "...Um... Hm. Okay. I am going to leave and get a sandwich."

He begins walking towards the exit. Steven jumps up to follow him.

Steven: "Wait up while I grab my ski-mask."

Andy: "No! We are not robbing them!"

Steven: "Can I at least steal some chips?

Andy: "...Fine."

Alternate Middles

Everyone's heard of movies with alternate endings. But you may not know that the following films originally had alternate middles.

The Wizard of Oz
Dorothy Gale lives in Kansas with her aunt, uncle, three farmhands, and dog. One day, a tornado strikes, and she is knocked unconscious. When she wakes up and exits the sepia toned house, she does not emerge in the technicolor land of Oz, as into the theatrical cut of the film—instead, Dorothy emerges in an even more sepia toned version of Kansas. Here, she learns that the tornado has completely annihilated the farm; in fact, it is one of thousands of “super tornadoes” which have become sentient due to radiation from space, and are now wreaking havoc across the planet.

For months, Dorothy and Toto are forced to live in a wasteland and scavenge for food while hiding from hostile tornadoes. They also come across the three farmhands, who are now deformed and can only speak in song, due to prolonged exposure to the space radiation. Eventually, Dorothy cannot survive any longer and passes out... only to wake up in her bed back home! It turns out that she was only dreaming, and she promises her family that she will never leave home again (because she now has crippling agoraphobia, and is terrified that if she walks outside then a self-aware tornado will hunt her down and kill her).

Die Hard
Detective John McClane goes with his estranged wife to a company Christmas party. All of the coworkers attempt to mingle, but the presence of Nakatomi executives makes things a little uncomfortable. McClane and his wife bond while they quietly joke about the salesman who has had a little too much to drink. After several hours of heart-to-heart discussions, they realize that they really do love each other and agree to work on repairing their relationship. A wacky limo driver makes jokes while he takes them home.

Planet of the Apes
Taylor, an astronaut, crash-lands on an unknown planet inhabited by sophisticated apes. Eventually he convinces Dr. Zaius, an orangutan scientist, that he can speak intelligently, and becomes a global celebrity due to his talents. That’s not to say that the apes mock him or view him as a novelty; No, they genuinely admire Taylor’s intellect. Apes across the planet pay to hear him tell tales about Earth and listen to his opinions on nuclear warfare.

At the end of the film, he discovers that the apes are in the process of building a replica Statue of Liberty. He wasn’t supposed to see it until it was completed (only the top half is done), but it was to be a gift to him, a reminder of his old home. Taylor is so overcome with gratitude that he falls to his knees and breaks down into tears of joy.

Titanic
A group of treasure hunters are searching for the Heart of the Ocean, a necklace believed to have been lost on the RMS Titanic. Their search leads them to Rose DeWitt Bukater, an old woman who was on the boat that fateful night. After this prologue, the film shifts perspective to that of our hero, the iceberg.

We learn that this poor iceberg has had a difficult life: He and his wife (a nearby glacier) seem to be drifting apart. His relationship with his son has become cold and distant. After a number of slip-ups, he is even fired from his job.

Distraught, he takes up meditation, and soon becomes inspired to change his life. However, he has his eyes closed while practicing yoga one day, and doesn’t notice the giant boat bearing down on him until it’s too late. The Titanic crashes into him, causing him to sink into the ocean, and he never has a chance to tell his wife that he loves her. Years later, elderly Rose ironically throws the Heart of the Ocean back into the water, as a sort of final “screw you!” to the iceberg.

The 10 Commandments
During plagues 2 through 9, Moses wears a sombrero.

The Hunter becomes the Hunted, then a Tree, then the Hunter again, and then a Pelican

By now, you’ve probably figured out that I had an ulterior motive for bringing you to my private island, so I might as well just say it: yes, I am planning on hunting you for sport. I hope you packed running shoes.

I suppose it was inevitable. When you’re a reclusive multi-billionaire, there are only so many things you can do with your vast amounts of spare time. I've tried all sorts of dangerous games, but none of them have been dangerous enough for me. Still, all of my reclusive multi-billionaire friends are constantly raving about how exciting manhunting can be, so let's give it a try. I’m sure we will both have a—

Why did you run off without letting me finish? You didn't even wait to hear all the rules. I was going to give you some primitive weapons and granola bars to make this more of a fair fight, but I guess you're just more eager to play than I was expecting. It seems the game has begun!

These broken twigs seems to indicate that you're heading towards the dock. I suppose you think that you can just highjack one of my many luxury yachts and head home, but that would be cheating. If you had stayed and gone over the rulebook with me, you would know that.

Hold on… the trail of footsteps stops here. Perhaps I underestimated you. Besides, what is that dark mass floating in my koi pond? Is that one of my personal security guards/butlers? Did you you overpower him and steal his rifle? And that other person standing over there, shooting at me while crying about wanting to go home—is that you?

I was not expecting this. Our game was supposed to involve more traditional weapons like improvised slingshots and sticks with pointy ends. But it appears that the tables have turned. This is especially heartbreaking because I spent so much time arranging and decorating those expensive tables.

Now I'm the one being chased through the jungle. I have the advantage of knowing the terrain pretty well (it is my jungle), but you do have a gun. Some sneakiness is required on my part. Maybe if I hold up these leaves and make tree noises, you won't notice me. Then I can trip you as you run past.

Ha ha! The disguise worked, and now the tables have turned once again, back to how I originally set them. Don't blame yourself: my impressions of tree noises are very convincing.

Well then. It appears that our dangerous game has reached its conclusion. You were a worthy opponent. Unfortunately, there are no silver medals in the sport of manhunting.

I'm pointing the barrel of the rifle at you now.

My finger is on the trigger.

The time has come. Good game!

...Wait, where did all these feathers come from?

Our Family Camping Trip

I'm so excited to take you and the kids camping next week! What a perfect way to start the summer. I got our sleeping bags out of the closet, I finished packing the hiking gear, and I already hired a hobo to hide in the woods and wait for us.

Wait, did I not tell you about the hobo?

See, at night we'll gather around the campfire to tell scary stories. Mine will be the terrifying tale of an insane vagrant with an axe for a hand who wanders the forest and murders campers. At the climax of the story, that hobo I hired will let out a blood-curdling scream as he leaps down from a tree and scares the hell out of everyone. Then we’ll all eat delicious s’mores.

Of course I gave the hobo an axe, honey. Otherwise, how would the kids get that he's supposed to be the hobo from the story, and not just any hobo?

Unfortunately, this guy isn't the best actor. But out of all the ones I auditioned, he seemed the most authentic. Don’t worry, I told him to rehearse with a few other families before we get there. I really want him to give a great performance on the big night.

The best part is, I don't even have to buy costumes or anything: he already looks the part. Plus, any method actor can stay in character all the time. He’s so professional that he stays in multiple characters all the time. And they all constantly act out complicated dialogue scenes with each other. Using different voices and everything.

I should probably ask him take a shower though. He kind of reeks—I don't want anyone to smell him coming and ruin the surprise.

Obviously we will all laugh after it's over. But during campfire time, I want a real sense of danger so everyone can imagine that they're the campers in the story. Do you think we’ll get reception out there? Maybe I should steal everyone’s cell phones just in case. I wonder if the fake bloody handprints would be creepier if they’re on the side of the tent or on the side of the bag with the granola bars. And should I slash our car’s tires before or after we go on the nature trail?

These are the kinds of questions I want to answer in advance. I’m not trained in improv.

Still, if all goes according to plan, this will be the best vacation our family has ever taken. And after the excitement-filled night ahead, Tuesday’s sailing trip will be a nice change of pace. It will be relaxing for all of us. I can teach the kids how to fish. You can read your book. Nobody will expect anything scary to happen.

That's why I also gave the hobo a jet ski.