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Dude at Job Interview: So kid, why do you want this job?

J8: Need the money.

Dude: It says here on your resume that you previously worked at three other places of employment as a food technician.

J8: Yeah.   Lied.

Dude: What?

J8: I lied.   That was my friend Kane.   He kept getting fired for telling the customers the food was shit…

Dude: You lied?

J8: …so I figured deceitfulness was probably a good skill to be demonstrating for this job, yeah?

Dude: Listen, young man – you may not be taking this position seriously, but…

J8: Nah, dude.   I’m serious as.   Boiling oil, siphoning icecream, frenching fries – point me in the direction, and I’ll flip, freeze and fry anything within an inch of its life.   I’m fucking good at extreme food preparation: I just usually like it a little fresher, myself…

Dude: That kind of language is hardly appropriate here…

J8: Look man, I’m having a kinda fucked-up morning – I got this weird email, and my Cat sucker-punched some kid from downstairs with a pawful of claws when she tried to give it a makeover, and honestly? – who conducts job interviews on Mother’s Day anyway?   Not that I personally give a shit, but don’t you have some little old lady to be stuffing full of chocolates and stifling with flowers and cheap pot pourri…?   You could just gimme the job, and then we can both get the hell out of here.

[Insert long tirade from unhappy unpotential boss about J8 and ‘his’ generation: ergo, unintentionally anachronistic.   The words ”attitude’, ‘appalling’ and ‘underachievement’ featured a lot – he doesn’t have an extensive vocabulary…]

J8: Hey – I’m not the one who wanted to make people fat and unhealthy when he grew up.   Your career advisor needed a fucking talking to…

[Da capo]

J8: Okay, fine.   If you’re not going to employ me, I’ll just…

[Da capo]

J8: Fuck, dude: I just want a job.   I don’t need a…

[Da capo]

J8: Whatever.   All this talk of food made me hungry anyway…

[Tacet.   J8 remembers to take back his resume, leave the back door of the office thoughtfully open for any useful gangland/rapid dog/random psycho theories, and wipe his mouth on a convenient serviette as he walks out through the ‘restaurant’ – where patrons are chowing down on equally terrifying things, and he looks like just everyone else.]




One Comment

  1. Note to self: If J8 comes looking for a job, give him a fkn job! Safer that way!!

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