Cover letters that will never be read

November 16, 2008
Prosperity Toy Company
Dublin, Ireland

Dear Mr. Gary Mullan,
I feel like I am buying a lottery ticket sending a cover letter to a dude (bloke) like you so with great courage due to little risk of this letter ever being read - Here goes:

Hire me right now. Toys? Children? Creative minds? Ire-freaking-land? Are you kidding? Might as well be on the moon! I am there, bro! Have the magic carpet pick me up at the end of the driveway (road).

Why do I even feel like maybe, possibly, I could be considered for this position?
I have lots of experience, I perform small miracles and I can spin plates on a ladder, 50 feet (15.24 meters) above an live audience, blindfolded!

But sadly all of these qualifications in the slack and sluggish US economy make very little difference. I have no shot at this job. Really. You did not get drunk next to me at the bar
I was sitting in and “accidentally” brush your hand across my breast more than once, burst into tears when confronted then back into my car, clearly visible to those of us at the bar - and speed away. In other words, I have nothing on you and that’s about what it would take for me to land this job. And that actually happened to me by the way.

The gall. The gall of you Mr Mullan, to post this make-believe fairy tale job on Monstor.com. You should be sued (slapped) A toy maker? In Dublin? Paying 150,000 pounds a year? What else haven’t you mentioned? That I have to be corporately fisted (rogered) at lunch and perform sex acts on dwarfs? (Leprechauns) Actually, that might be easier.

Thanks Mr. Wonka, which way to the chocolate factory? How dare you post this job and give hope to the unemployed, the freelanced, the fearful and dejected?

Wait, I am just kidding Mr, Mullan. I am really the candidate you are looking for, really. I am qualified, creative, pleasant. Well, I am sort of pleasant in the sense that I am bitter. You are Irish for christ sakes, you certainly can understand that?

See we have so much in common, why we are practically twins and not like those Siamese twins joined at the head I saw on the history channel (tely) the other day. But the normal kind sort of like the Olsen twins or England and Ireland. Maybe Scotland and Ireland? Never mind.

Well, I am exhausted (spent) from this letter (confessional) good luck on your search for your beloved candidate (queen). I hope the thousands of resumes (CVs) you receive fall on your head and you suffocate from toxic (non-organic) inks and chemicals.