My father always said that no matter what job you have–whether it’s being the CEO of a company or bathing said CEO’s cat–do the best job you can. Your outstanding work ethic will be recognized and you will be tapped for success. Now that I’m an adult, I can honestly say my dad was feeding me heaping spoonfuls of bullshit. Giant dense wads of BULL…SHIT.
My ears are burning!
In this day and age, your hard work amounts to a hill of beans. And by that, I mean if traded on the open market, a hill of beans would equate to your annual salary. The vast majority of companies have zero loyalty when it comes to their employees. They answer to their investors not you, person who faxes lunch orders to Quiznos. In fact, they loathe you because they have not found a way to automate your job with robots. You are nothing more than a stapler with feelings. A fucking human resource. Sorry if I’m getting a little Fiona up in here.
This world is bullshhh...Oh? We covered that already? Okay.
That’s right, you precious little snowflake. Your talents can easily be replicated by someone ten years your junior and for half the cost. Your dumbass little brother who exposed his butt to pee until he was 12? He is now a viable up-and-comer. Also, the older you get, the more you break down. Older employees are prone to malfunctions like the flu, chronic pain and pregnancy. And let me tell you, if there’s one thing your company hates, it’s a pregnant employee.
Sir, here is the Peterson file you asked for. Pregnant? Oh, no sir. Where did you get that crazy idea? Please don't fire me!
And let’s say you do work hard and move your way up the corporate ladder. Let’s say you play the game and you play it well. What then? What’s next? You just move a fucking notch up, get a more grandiose yet meaningless title, a slightly higher salary and exponential more responsibility. You will be expected to be the first one in and the last one to leave. If your underlings don’t meet their quotas, that’s your fault. If you don’t meet your quotas, that’s your fault. Your ass is on the line, son. But this is what you wanted, right? A white collar shirt, a pair of khakis and an office with a view of another fucking office!
Severance package (employees must provide their own bullets)
So you want out of the rat race, right? You want to live the easy life in a mansion on the hill overlooking the ocean? No problem! I got just the thing. Fame! Fame is the easiest path to never having to collate or hole punch anything ever again. So I give you…
How to become famous in 10 easy steps
1. Buy a digital camcorder
2. Hide said digital camcorder in a discreet location, such as the inside of a teddy bear’s stomach. If you are not prone to collecting teddy bear’s and you think this would arouse suspicion, start collecting teddy bears. When your friends ask you, “Hey, bro. What’s with the teddy bears?” Just say, “Fuck off! You will be dead to me when I am famous.”
3. Position the camera so that it provides a clear view of your bed.
4. Invite a celebrity over to your apartment for sex. (This is the easy part.)
5. Have sex with the celebrity. Make sure to try to mug for the camera. It’s important that your face gets full attention. After all, it is what people will recognize first when they come to one of your book signings. Also, try to engage in the most depraved sex act imaginable. Having trouble thinking of ideas? Just open the dictionary to a random page and point. Then put that thing in a hole and, voila, depravity!
6. Add title cards to your sex tape. It is important to give credit where credit is due. Don’t forget to mention that no animals were harmed in the filming of the tape unless animals were harmed, which if you are doing this right, they were.
7. Send the tape to one of the countless trashy websites on the Internet. If you don’t know of any, then God bless you.
8. Hold out for the highest bidder when you do your first interview. Unfortunately, Oprah is off the air, which really struck a blow to the wages of shameless sluts everywhere.
9. Develop a reality show. Now that you have had a celebrity inside you, everyone wants to know what you eat for breakfast.
10. Sign a book deal. Don’t worry, you won’t have to write it. I will.
And that’s it! You are super famous, and now you can just ride this roller coaster until you die in a pool of your own vomit. Just make sure to remember the little guys who helped you along the way. That way you can describe them to your sniper guards should they decide to trespass on your property.