Nothing gives a dad an erection faster than his very own flesh and blood greeting with a firm handshake, submitting an articulately written sheet of white, cotton paper and landing a new job. When it comes to getting hired in today’s work climate, there’s nothing more important than having a solid resume. However, with the sorry state of college students’ writing abilities, your average hiring manager’s shredder probably gets more action than your Uncle Vlad at the semi-annual hemophiliac orgy. People are in need of some good, old-fashioned resume workshopping, and who better to use as an example than the guy who’s soon to be out of work due to an unfortunate comedy show ass disaster?
Bobby Beacon: I like butts of all sizes, and I only occasionally tell a lie. Bobby Beacon, at your service.
Joe DiPersio: Alright? I like the honesty but maybe reconsider the butts. So Bobby, humor me. Why did you find it important to list your body count on your resume, and why are there three different numbers given here?
BB: People I’ve gotten funky with, people I’ve funked and people who’ve funked me. I wanted to be all-encompassing.
JD: I mean, for someone who’s like, 2,000 years old, I guess only having “funked” with three people shows a certain kind of restraint if that’s what you’re going for. Regardless, it’s probably not the most crucial information, but moving on to experience, you didn’t mention UMass Boston once. Are you afraid that maybe you’ve burnt some bridges here? After you publicly pooped your pants, I mean.
BB: You mean the time a poop was publicly planted in my pants by a nefarious source? Look, maybe I’ve burnt a few bridges here, but I’m like Hercules fighting the hydra. For every bridge I burn, I construct two more in its place.
JD: Okay, but Hercules burnt the heads to keep them from regrowing so that analogy doesn’t really…
BB: I’M GONNA F—ING KILL YOU!
JD: What?
BB: What, a guy can’t sneeze? Bless me.
JD: Right? How about we talk about the most extensive part of your resume: the skills and…powers section? You wrote here that you’re “ingenuitive.”
BB: That’s right, I’m a total in-genius! I was in the shower last night scrubbing it up, you know, getting real sudsy, and I started thinking about Daylight Savings Time. Everybody hates it, but imagine if it had a guy to go with it called The Time Bandit! Every year, The Time Bandit steals an hour of the day only to go through a dramatic redemptive character arc six months later and give the hour back.
JD: But then six months after he gives it back, he regresses back to a thief?
BB: Do you always talk like an idiot, or are you just having a stupid day?
JD: You also wrote on here that you can NOT lift at least 50 pounds.
BB: I am sick and tired of this f—ing question! I’m the brains, not the brawn, pal! We got tools to do that s— these days! You know, forklifts and oily muscle boys to come in and get their grease all over everything? And yeah, if you’re wondering, I weigh at least 50 pounds so sometimes I have a hard time getting from point A to point B.
JD: I’m just gonna ask you point blank, Bobby. Why should I hire you for this job?
BB: I provide an essential service: comic relief. Do you know how in every occupation, there’s always that one chump who’s just completely unfit for duty? Like, the doofus cop who keeps shooting himself in the foot, or the forgetful surgeon who misplaced someone’s left brain hemisphere? I can act as a communal office laughing stock, providing other workers a chance to bond over mocking my unorthodox antics and occasionally problematic beliefs. Given the right circumstances, I can be a Dwight or an Andy or a Kevin or even, and I don’t want to get too ahead of myself here, a Michael Scott.
JD: So, if I hire you as a joke, will I be paying you in funny money?
BB: You can pay me in blow jobs for all I care.
JD: Moving on! Let’s talk about your references, or should I say, your reference. Who’s Cindy Slug?
BB: The only lover I’ve ever had.
JD: I thought you said you’ve been intimate with three people?
BB: Cindy Slug is like a Dark Souls boss fight, she’s got three stages and each can be considered a separate entity. Stage one, you’re having fun. Stage two, the bongos and the Latin choir come in. When you get her health down to about three-fourths, brace yourself for the finisher. Nearly coughed up my own spine one night. And the slime! Don’t even get me started! It would make Nickelodeon jealous.
JD: I’m going to give you some advice. Never tell that story to anybody ever again.
BB: So, how’d I do? Do I got the job?
JD: Yeah, unfortunately, we’re considering other applicants at this time.
BB: F— ME!
