100 Percent Pure Adrenaline

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The Hud

What day is it? The Date!: January 16th

THE YEAR?!:2010

The job climate has changed rapidly in the past few years and likewise, so has the means of finding such employment. Gone are the days of walking in, handing your resume and letting your future boss take a small glimpse at your personality as an aid in their search to find the perfect candidate for the position in question. Today, that method is an ancient memory. In this day and age of short attention spans, giant corporations and the incoming flux of recently unemployed who seek new means of income through different careers we have been reduced to the online job application in an effort to speed up the process. Gentlemen, let the bitching begin.

After Miles Dyson became a suicidal martyr which set back his breakthrough computer research by dozens of years in an effort to stop the impeding doomsday prophesied by a young waitress, technology continued at its normal, steady pace. ( Long exhale and a quick wipe of the brow. That was close! ) Not so fast. Unsatisfied and in an effort to bring Cyberdyne systems back to the forefront of applied science we as a society have done away with the traditional Gort’s, C3P0′s and Johnny 5′s of the job application processes to make way for a new, scarier model.  If the online job application were walking down the street naked in the middle of the night and you found yourself in the unfortunate role of Bill Paxton; promptly begin pissing your pants and revealing the tiny, pathetic size of your dick now. It wouldn’t be long until he was digging his meat club sized hands like a spoon into a juicy piece of cantaloupe in an effort to pull out your still beating heart. “Fuck you. Asshole. ”

At the core of the online job assessment are the hundreds of questions thrown your way in order to get a good idea of who you are to the company you look to for employment. They range from a wide variety of topics such as ‘Will you steal?’ to ‘Will you let other c0-workers steal?’ and so forth.

If anything they are a good glimpse into how modern American businesses view the bulk of their prospective company representatives. When beginning the test two polarizing figures begin to take shape rather quickly. The Model Employee and the sexually confused, goth-rock loving homicidal maniac with his cock n’ balls tucked between his legs. Sadly, and much to Buffalo Bills dismay, there is no question asking where the lotion goes in order to refrain from getting the hose again. To put it bluntly, if I had the choice of being locked in a room full of people answering the wrong end of these questioners or the cast of George Romero’s Dawn Of The Dead I would happily enter into the zombie’s blue toned undead arms after a long tanning bed session with apple in mouth and food stuffing in ass.

Wait, they can’t be that bad, can they? Let’s take small look at a few of the questions in…er, question, shall we?

• People cannot be trusted, because eventually they let you down. Ah yes, the Ed Gein defense. They may not be able to be trusted, but they make great lampshades and designer snuggies!
• Your moods shift dramatically from one direction to the next. This is actually true. I’m a happy, motivated individual when I begin and by the end due to the bizarre nature of the questions I wonder if I’m applying for a job or as a guest on the set of ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.’
• Sometimes I get really mad, and I don’t know why. They left out the part where it said ‘And then after blacking out I wake up naked covered in my fellow employees entrails with a prostate that feels like it got in a fistfight.
• You look back and feel bad about things you’ve done. And the people you’ve buried under the basement.
• You don’t believe a lot of what people say. Simple things, like ‘Don’t J-Walk, respect the elderly and refrain from pouring acid into the back of incapacitated peoples heads in order to try and start your army of zombie sex slaves.’
• You are a very private person. Yes, I love privates! In fact, I have a whole rotting refrigerator full of them.
  

So what conclusion have we come to thus far? Well, seeing as you’re taking the test in solitude with no supervision to determine even the slightest amount of truth it’s easy to say whether you’re Jeffrey Dahmer looking for his next meal or an honest job searching citizen you’re going to get the position. Unless of course you’re an honest job searching citizen. Did your modesty prevent you from answering ‘excellent’ on all questions regarding your mental, physical and communication attributes? Sorry, this job only recruits the best of the best, the most ‘excellent’ of all candidates. Welcome aboard, John Wayne Gacy.

So you’ve submitted your first application and have been passed over by a homicidal clown. You’re down but not out. ” I’ll show them dammit, even if I have to play by their rules. ” Bingo. Stage one is complete and soon you’ll be marching alongside Donald Sutherland; index finger pointed in air and mouth agape, signaling in a wretched scream the location of all who haven’t yet been body snatched.

So now they’ve begun to take hold, their cold wart ridden fingers gripping your soft, living flesh and stuffing you head first into their witches pot; melting down your body into goo and pouring it into their mold of mediocrity. It’s bad enough marching in single file towards the personality glue factory, a cruel fate comprised of taking any glimmer of individuality and stripping it down, humiliating it through spraying it with a hose and laughing at its cold, naked body. Are you ready for the next step? Wait, they’re not finished. As a final act of beating your fading attempt at uniqueness six feet under throw in pointing and smirking towards its shriveled, frightened member for good measure before finally tossing it into the Jack LaLanne industrial grade personality juicer. Moments later it will be drank up by an employer with the emotional range of Christopher Lambert and the same singular philosophy. In the age of mindless, soulless armies of prospective work force employee’s when it comes to charisma there can truly be “only one.”

So what is the one personality to rule them all? Let’s put this in perspective. If this graduate of the personality glue factory was given the task of directing 2008′s ‘The Day The Earth Stood Still’ he would’ve asked Keanu Reeve’s to tone down the emotions a notch. Can you hear that? It’s the sound of a heart rate monitor flat lining. Don’t fret, it happened twice on the set of The Matrix. In fact, he was declared legally dead for half of ‘Something’s Gotta Give’ and here he is, alive and well; an example all alumnus of the soul stripping machine aspire to one day emulate. When Don Johnson sang of looking for a heartbeat in his hit 1986 tune, unbeknown to most it was regarding a future GNC employee trained at the university of Johnny Utah. Sadly, he hasn’t stopped singing.

Surprisingly you’re not deterred. You did it once before and you’ll do it again. What’s a couple 150 question online psychological profiles, anyway? A great opportunity for your long dormant hemorrhoids to be re-introduced to Preparation-H, that’s what. On average most job sites let you know that the ‘profile evaluation’ segment will take between 60-90 minutes, depending on the user. Six job applications later and even with half a bucket of lube shoved up your ass those fuckers are exploding like face huggers from their hatching pods. Somewhere in the depths of syndication hell Paul Reiser is smiling.

A series of long, harrowing journeys through multiple application processes which bring to mind an online Lament Configuration cube and you’re finally finished. You have experienced the pain and now, after Pinhead and his band of Cenobite minions have finished ripping out the frayed ends of your sanity using fish-hooks disguised as a half dozen endless personalty questioners which, in an act of self sacrifice that would make Jim Caviezel envious, you’ve accomplished the impossible. You’re done. You’ve gone through the telepod and made it out to the other side; experiencing only mild Brundlefly side effects.

Now it’s time to put on the Ray Bans, lean back in your pleather executive chair with your feet stretched out and crossed onto the desk all the while blaring Timbuk 3 through your tinny, bass-phobic computer speakers. The sweet smell of success is so strong it cuts through your vapid anal cream odor. The space between both ears may have been reduced to a pink and grey paste, you may on rare occasions answer to the name Theodore Logan and your ass probably looks like the aftermath of Colonel Kurtz’s destroyed compound but these are just small casualties in an otherwise bigger war. Not much longer now and you’ll be rising up the ranks, all the way to the top. All you gotta do now is wait. And wait. And wait. The legs are off the desk, the shades are now gone. Timbuk 3 has long since been replaced by Eric Carmen’s trademark tune of self pity and the putrid stench of anal cream once again fills the air. You’ve waited days, checking the e-mail at least three dozen times every instance you sat down to the computer. You’ve even e-mailed yourself just to make sure your inbox is receiving incoming mail correctly. Nothing. All the while you grind your bitter teeth knowing somewhere out there Ted Bundy just received the keys to the employee van you were hoping to get and is heading out for the beach, arm in cast.

All that long, tiring work and no reward. It’s the real life equivalent to the early MAC game ‘The Oregon Trail.’ Your six kids are dead from cholera, the wive who you’ve aptly named after one of many Victoria’s Secret models drowned while crossing a four foot river and in the final stretch of 16 color landscape your final Oxen smashes into the ground dead with victory in site. “Thought you could take ‘The Trail’ on hard, didn’t you? Fuck you and your foolhardy, childish ambitions. ”

You may have been down, but not out. There was always the next day, during library break, to jump back on the wagon, create six new kids and rename your hot pixelated wive one of the multiple lingerie models who hadn’t yet drowned while crossing the Columbia river. My kids could starve, my 8-bit trophy wife could succumb to cholera and my supplies could be ravaged by Indians but god dammit, I’ll finish that game. Twenty seven tries later and fresh out of Victoria’s Secret models to kill the ancient Apple Mac II had destroyed my will to continue through brute force. Maybe like playing the game, it was time to lower my expectations regarding my work possibilities. If the online job search hadn’t worked, maybe donating my organs to the black market would.