I Use the Classifieds Only to Wipe Up My Many Orangina Spills

Today was what you might call a good day. At 8:15 I was in a huge meeting room with six guys in suits all staring at me as I picked idly at the bottom of my sneaker and casually rubbed the spaghetti sauce stain from my Eddie Rabbit T-shirt. My strategy had paid off handsomely. I had these guys in the palm of my hand.

"Soren," the head dude said, "when we here at Microsoft received your resume in the mail, at first we were puzzled. We wondered why a man whose highest position had been working as a part-time assistant sandwich maker at Potbelly's would apply to become the new CEO of the world's largest computer corporation. But then it hit us like a blast of wind from a super-expensive hair dryer. You think big and you think bold."

I smiled. Damn right, I thought.

"Soren," the head dude's legal lackey said, "all the other losers we were considering for the post may have multiple computer science and business degrees and decades of high-responsibility decision-making under their belts, but you were willing to use your own printer ink and a first class stamp to apply for a position so far above your head that we'd become the laughingstock of the entire world if we even spent valuable time sending you a rejection letter. Young man, unlike people with normal brains, you look at a challenge you couldn't possibly even afford the proper suit and tie to take on, and you say 'Sign me up, bitches!' "

I sighed as if bored. Some new guy piped in.

"You must have known there was no way we could just turn our backs on such a quixotic rebel," he said. "The very immensity of your mind-boggling presumption all but obligated us to respond, lest our organization be seen as frightened of risks. We've decided---and surely you foresaw this brilliantly---that we have no choice but to counter your radical gambit with one of our own: we're going to hire you without even an interview."

My poker face remained.

"'s time for a sea change within our industry," some fourth guy added, "a crazy roll of the dice which will shake Wall Street to its core and re-define our brand as one completely in tune with the irresponsible, risk-taking lifestyle shared by professional basketball players and East Village hipsters alike. By God, Soren Narnia, you're our man! When can you start?!"

I yawned and said, "Fellas, first off, I don't even get out of bed for less than eight dollars an hour."

It went on from there. Let's just say that I know what I'm doing, job-search-wise. No, I won't be taking Microsoft's money. I've also faxed resumes to German parliament, which is looking to name a new ambassador to Ghana, and to the Texas Rangers, who aren't actively looking for a new general manager right now, but who I'm sure will freeze like deer in the headlights when they look in my "Job Experience" section and see that I once spent a couple of weeks selling peanuts on the street outside a minor league stadium in Fort Lauderdale. Oh yes indeed, the spoils go to those who grab for the brass ring no matter where it is. That's me, folks. Try not to get your clothes dirty standing in my dust.