My Fake Cover Letter, 2008 or So

Dear Sir/ Madam/ Whom It May Concern/ Self-Glorified Recruiter/ Tool/ Earthling:

I am writing in regards to a full-time position with your fine organisation.  I learned about the recent hole in your staff though some source you probably wouldn’t recognise if it slapped you across the face, but I’ll drop its name like it means something to you, anyway.  As a soon-to-be homeless graduate with an expensive degree from a prestigious university, I am desperate for some form of employment that my mother won’t feel she’ll have to lie about when she sends out the next family Christmas letter.

Over the past five years, I’ve done various things that will supposedly make me a viable candidate for your company.  I’ve had internships, part-time jobs and club memberships, and I can probably procure generic, positive letters of recommendation from any of those pools.  I’ve also done a lot of useless things, but something tells me that hearing about that stuff won’t make you want to hire me.  Instead of regurgitating any such items of disinterest, I’ll instead provide you with some of my defining characteristics, which I feel are far more relevant to your decision-making process:

I’ve never killed a person.  Bugs, plants and hamsters are another story.

I can polish off an entire pizza on a good day (or maybe it’s a bad day).

I have access to free whole bean coffee and am usually willing to share.

I enjoy waltzing, puppies, espresso martinis, moonlit walks along the beach, and making shamelessly snarky remarks.

Occasionally I fake tan for ballroom competitions.  This guarantees at least one week of entertainment for everyone else in the office every other month.

I’m cute and cuddly once I’ve had my twelfth cup of coffee.

I fully understand that I will be the newest company gopher, and that I will be subjected to a barely sustainable salary, undesirable tasks that are fit only for an intern, and merciless hours.  In starting at ground zero, there is seemingly infinite room for advancement within the company.  Who knows?  Perhaps one day I’ll get promoted to Real Human with Real Human Needs.  Thank you for not tossing this letter onto the recycling pile upon seeing it on your desk, and I look forward to your rejection.

I originally wrote this on February 26th, 2009, while I was cursing the process of the job search.  View the post here.


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