I'd Like To Work At Your Firm |
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Written by Greg Mills
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Greg Mills can also be read at the BASTARD OF ART AND COMMERCE
Offer me a job. At your work. I will take it, by gum. I will bring my own lunch. I'll sit quietly, and cheerfully. I could tidy, collate, bring in the elephants. Got a waxing need? I'll wax it. Canvas need stretching? I'll get my gloves.
Can I plan an invasion for you? Please? I won't be any trouble. I have my own maps and a pen. Will wear a tie. Or pasties. Let me reheat the morning soup for you. I will punish your enemies, roll your oats, call the faithful to prayer. All I need is a honest fair, salary and four weeks off. You have reached the limits of your effectiveness, but I can extend for you. "Milk the cats! Ring the bells! Calculate the rate of decay! I'm busy, Mills!" And I'm on it, my name tag a glisten and my hassock freshly pressed. I will not complain when I am cut by paper, exposed to pathogens, or put next to the boring client in the Lear Jet. I won't alphabetize, so don't ask. And I am leery of deep-fryers, since the accident. But I will dress your windows like the fabled window dresser I know deep down that I am. So, what do you say? Are we jake? Hire me.
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