Category : Reader Friendly
“Be serious! You only have one chance to make a good impression.” He continued.
“The secret to success, is to read them before they read you. Companies are faceless corporations. Pure evil. Ready to toss you down the deadwood-chute the moment you cease to be useful or in your case, if they don’t like you.”
“However in the end companies are run by people. Now, people are not evil but quite likable or at least, that is what you want them to believe. Everyone loves to feel they are better than everyone else: Special. Even if they don’t admit it.”
“I fear a sense of horrible irony in what I am about to hear…”
“That’s what you got to exploit. That’s your ticket in!”
“One word: Cynical.”
“You want to get the job or are you going to insult me?”
“May I do both?”
Peter then went on about a famous story from his past or something more akin to an anthology of them. Everyone always liked those. They were always funny and fantastical: Like, Spiderman-swings-in-and-sa
“When on my first job interview at an insurance company, a would-be manager asked me a series of questions meant to throw you off and think on your feet. Like: ‘Where would you see yourself in 5 years?’ I love time traveling questions. Or ‘Tell us a time where you were in conflict with someone and you just magically fixed it.’ Or ‘what would you do if your found your boss stealing office supplies?’ (I would have said blackmail) and other sanity-vague diatribe.
The point: No one wants to hire a moron. No one will ever say that to your face, of course. But now that I am a manager, trust me, they do. Sometimes walking an interviewee out without bursting in sub-political correct cachinnation is the hardest part of the interview!”
“Cachinnation? Really? You are a bastard Peter…”
“What is your strongest weakness?!” My manager said. “That one does come to mind a lot.”
“Isn’t that a Wynonna Judd song?”
“Silly no fuck!”
“What did you say?”
“…He was my strongest weakness… I surrendered heart and soul…”
“Shut up. You did not said that.”
“I said something about working too hard for my own good, but I was on the process of balancing it out with some sports.”
“Sounds normal, and he believed you?”
“Here is where you must shine: The Look. Everyone knows these answers are anal and vacuous. The internet has made sure to spread that fact far and wide. But the look and tone mixed in with a hint of a honest smile throws them off. That is what sells it. Don’t over do it, you don’t want to come off car-salesman smooth. Everyone hates that! And you will come off as if you are lying. That is something you want to avoid at all costs!
“Isn’t that exactly what I would be doing though?”
“See? Right there. You just failed to get the job.”
Wondered if asking Peter was a very, very, bad idea.
“Oh, wait, I will tell you my favourite question! At another interview few years later, a manager asked in a very serious and imposing tone:
‘Hypothetically, after you got the job, if my manager, came in here. Pointed out the window there and told you the sky was purple and I said to him it was blue… and he asked for your opinion. What would your answer be?’
“Finally, an interestingly attitude question…” I thought.
“I said you could not see the sky because it was in fact overcast.”
“Wha? You did not say that either! You are really BS’ing now.”
“He said it was hypothetical. Didn’t see a hipothericalistic thought sale at Costco. Its free. Anyone can use it.”
“What did he say?”
“He just sat there. Index finger raised upward, mouth opened, as if he was going to say something. After about 10 seconds he asked me if I could come up with anything else. I added we should definitely call his wife, as I would be worried for his boss going home and careening right through a red light.
“I hired you two years later, didn’t I?.” Peter said, smiling.
“Spiderman saves the day, again.” I thought.
In the end, I got the job. Not sure how but definitely not thanks to Peter’s advise.
With the faint and ever lingering humming of cars in the distance
And incandescents hanging outside my windows which never seem to rest.
White noise for the desperate.
How long has it been since my dreams took hold?
Leading to lush lands? Islands teaming of vibrant thought and endearing peace?
How lucky mellow-minds are.
Free to stroll through fields of wild ponderings and soft-oranged mornings
To welcome sleep’s soft hand, nurturing and pleasant, like a mother’s tender touch. Knowing your rest and time are blessed.
Rather than embrace it as cold escapism. A hamac of obscurity. An unplugging tool to hinder the surges
Pardoning a fool’s head with levity thus allowing it to hang lighter
What time is it now? Three more hours? Then, is there not a choice?
I recall traveling endless kilometers within my living room. Carving a path through my carpet
Pacing my worries. Passing and pacing. Endless.
Your mind is the worse enemy.
Days gone by remind me of quieter times
When I did not loose myself in the rules of numbers & words, and lived.
I am still like that inside. I know it! I think…
I can see it, when I am not empty like a canteen or peddling fears to myself
Something hardly ever seen in my mind now, are the galleries of memories. My museum of flashbacks.
Halls full of wonders, some innocent like those of a child. Or some among loved ones –Spring picnics, drunken nights and love making on a whim. Gently running your fingers across someone’s lips before that first soft, lusting kiss.
All of them now amalgamated within the retreat of my mind, along my statues of granite reason. What will happen to them? I wonder.
As the comfort of silence, unleashed and uncontrolled can make you mad
So then, when they found me the next day. They couldn’t understand it. How could they? You can’t blame them either. I didn’t, and I was there
Ah, silence! Peaceful. And right before I fade. Just before I fade.
I despised the white noise, a pestilent symphony without coda. Never desisting. Now, I see nothing.
Only blackness. Blinded.
Dear God, …where am I?
Well, it was only a matter of time before technology and the human mating dance met face to face, went out for a few drinks and ended up in a Super 8! The result? A cyber-jungle of IM services plus a volley of single, dating and discrete encounters sites. A scene not much different than the de-humanizing meat-markets found in any half lit nightclub on a Friday night, it seemed like things are just going to be business as usual.
With the invention of that great equalizer known as the Internet, it is finally irrelevant if you are shy or if your friends call you a Picasso come to life!
THERE IS MORE!
Now not only the ludicrously hot (not you) and extroverted (again, not you) can enjoy the sinful pleasures of straying into the fancy of multiple partners, whether you like it or not!
‘How does this remarkable system, undoubtedly created by a sage in the arts of seduction works,’ you ask?
Simple, I made it a personal quest to travel the world, hopping from frisky Jamaica, to romantic Paris and to the ironically more laissez-faire city of Amsterdam to research and collect data. The rest of Europe, Asia, and Africa were also on the itinerary—somewhere— but unfortunately, I got as far as the mythical city of London, Ontario before running out of funds and forced to find a Money-Mart to buy the bus trip home. Either way, after ten minutes of Googling, I was able to extract the elixir to create this revolutionary system.
WOW, I AM GETTING A LITTLE EXCITED!
Yes, and you should be.
TELL ME MORE!
As part of your guide into history, you will receive my smouldering ‘How to be an Internet Player’ guide, smack full of essays, wisdom and ‘how-to’ nuggets. Such as:
Don’t offer to buy her a drink, you stupid.
Typos as the lubricant of Internet love.
Stretching the truth by saying ‘I love you.’ Is just another way of saying ‘I like you.’
Instant Messengers are crude forms of communication, so what if you said you are 5’11’?
Having a six pack means different things to different people. How to just go with it.
Ask her who in Hollywood she thinks is hot; then tell her you just happen to be his look-alike! If you have any qualms with this, refer to Chapter II.
How come the women in the Lavalife website don’t look anything like the ones in the commercials? The mystery explained!
How to type with only your left hand!
Avoid obstacles! Don’t start off by talking about Star-Trek, Star Wars, Stargate, Starship Troopers or anything that begins with the word ‘Star.’ Example: I think Star Jones is hot.
So she ended up being a man? How to just go with it. Not everything is lost. Is she post-op?
Play the numbers. Email every single woman in the entire dating site. Including the webmaster, the dating and ISP support staff, remember, you are not being desperate, just passionate.
Yes, but there is more! Aside this soon to-be New York best seller, you will also get my 24\7 email support in case you have any questions. Yes, I will personally read and analyze your concerns and will advise in true mentor fashion. Send me your questions and orders to: Sendmeyourmoney@techemail.com