I would like to thank everyone who came to our booth today requesting information about the amazing company I have the joy to work for.
I would also like to send out a special thank the few of you - two in specific - who made my day at your campus particularly unforgettable.
and I do mean, unforgettable.
To My Fairy-Rock-Father:
You were an inspiration to me today, Fairy-Rock-Father. The way you wandered from booth to booth to talk to companies WHILE playing your guitar and tossing your long multi-colored bangs half-way off of your face was pure creative genius. I especially loved how, when you asked me if I wrote music (and I said yes), you proceeded to serenade me – rather loudly – in the middle of the career fair. Thank you for trying to seguway into a second song by telling me you’d forgotten my name – and how that reminded you of a song you wrote about forgetting a beautiful girl’s name and calling her Angel instead. Brilliant. But dear Fairy-Rock-Father, thank you most for using your rock-star powers to bless my life with unspeakable awesomeness. As we parted, I wished you good luck with your music (since you obviously weren’t really interested in the Graphic Design Position) and you wished me luck with mine. I wistfully said I wished that I had more time to really work on it!... – you hushed me loudly as I uttered this, leaned in uncomfortably close to my face, and whispered that the time was mine!…then ceremoniously THUMPED MY FOREHEAD with your finger! “your wish is granted,” you told me as you backed away with your arms stretched out to the heavens, “I’ve granted your wish!...”
‘Believing in your fairy-rock-father - isn’t it about…time?’
To The Royal Chef with B-O:
I’ve never had the imperial honor of being so completely insulted by someone who was either being so blatantly rude, inappropriate or socially awkward. You are too magnanimous! By way of apology, I’m sorry if I didn’t seem sufficiently awed or obsequious to have been graced by your noble presence when I learned you are a culinary arts major. I beg humble forgiveness. I also ask pardon that I was confused and a little speechless when you interrupted me (as I was telling you we’d love to speak to your programmer friend) in order to ask me in your drawl tone, “your job is to….attract people to the booth and, um...tell them things, isn’t it?” I was so struck by your stately grace that I could only stammer, “…well, yes, I get to tell people about our company…” before you butt back in to continue, “…and I don’t just mean physically, you know…” as you gave my outfit (I hope) a long significant look-over. Then you cut me off before I began my peasantry-babble again to announce, “you’re in…HR, aren’t you?” I could only nod, for I realized I was too unworthy to speak at that point. “I KNEW it,” you gloriously soliloquized, “you’re obviously not technical – so you couldn’t be a programmer. Therefore you had to be someone else from an office…like someone’s secretary (another significant look)…or HR.” I count myself grateful that you then turned and walked away at that point or else my undeserving hand surely would have found its way to your grand and grubby cheek with a loud, resounding CRACK! Thank you, your magestic highness, for culminating all of my professional achievements into being nothing more than a booth babe.
‘Cause you’re so hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh high above me, you’re so ugly!…’
Happy job hunting everyone!
I would also like to send out a special thank the few of you - two in specific - who made my day at your campus particularly unforgettable.
and I do mean, unforgettable.
To My Fairy-Rock-Father:
You were an inspiration to me today, Fairy-Rock-Father. The way you wandered from booth to booth to talk to companies WHILE playing your guitar and tossing your long multi-colored bangs half-way off of your face was pure creative genius. I especially loved how, when you asked me if I wrote music (and I said yes), you proceeded to serenade me – rather loudly – in the middle of the career fair. Thank you for trying to seguway into a second song by telling me you’d forgotten my name – and how that reminded you of a song you wrote about forgetting a beautiful girl’s name and calling her Angel instead. Brilliant. But dear Fairy-Rock-Father, thank you most for using your rock-star powers to bless my life with unspeakable awesomeness. As we parted, I wished you good luck with your music (since you obviously weren’t really interested in the Graphic Design Position) and you wished me luck with mine. I wistfully said I wished that I had more time to really work on it!... – you hushed me loudly as I uttered this, leaned in uncomfortably close to my face, and whispered that the time was mine!…then ceremoniously THUMPED MY FOREHEAD with your finger! “your wish is granted,” you told me as you backed away with your arms stretched out to the heavens, “I’ve granted your wish!...”
‘Believing in your fairy-rock-father - isn’t it about…time?’
To The Royal Chef with B-O:
I’ve never had the imperial honor of being so completely insulted by someone who was either being so blatantly rude, inappropriate or socially awkward. You are too magnanimous! By way of apology, I’m sorry if I didn’t seem sufficiently awed or obsequious to have been graced by your noble presence when I learned you are a culinary arts major. I beg humble forgiveness. I also ask pardon that I was confused and a little speechless when you interrupted me (as I was telling you we’d love to speak to your programmer friend) in order to ask me in your drawl tone, “your job is to….attract people to the booth and, um...tell them things, isn’t it?” I was so struck by your stately grace that I could only stammer, “…well, yes, I get to tell people about our company…” before you butt back in to continue, “…and I don’t just mean physically, you know…” as you gave my outfit (I hope) a long significant look-over. Then you cut me off before I began my peasantry-babble again to announce, “you’re in…HR, aren’t you?” I could only nod, for I realized I was too unworthy to speak at that point. “I KNEW it,” you gloriously soliloquized, “you’re obviously not technical – so you couldn’t be a programmer. Therefore you had to be someone else from an office…like someone’s secretary (another significant look)…or HR.” I count myself grateful that you then turned and walked away at that point or else my undeserving hand surely would have found its way to your grand and grubby cheek with a loud, resounding CRACK! Thank you, your magestic highness, for culminating all of my professional achievements into being nothing more than a booth babe.
‘Cause you’re so hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh high above me, you’re so ugly!…’
Happy job hunting everyone!
Ps. a quick note on this University – their customer service to the companies attending was EXCELLENT! I was completely impressed with them – even if I was less-than-impressed with some of their student offerings…
Pps. stay tuned for tomorrow’s career fair memoirs from the next university I visit!
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