There’s a big world out there, and it’s for sale. All of it.
The interviewer offers me these standard questions:
What are your strengths and weaknesses?
What can you contribute to the company?
How do you see yourself five years from now?
These are usual questions. There’s a whole list of others, but these three, you won’t walk away from a job interview without having to answer them. They’re designed supposedly to allow the interviewer determine if you’re fit for the job. They also make interviews full of shit.
I’m not really looking for a job. I work at home. I have a steady income from my online projects. I own goats, pigs, chickens, guinea pigs, and some other fierce animals whose ownership indicates overlord status. Which means I’m an actual overlord. I also own an ukay-ukay-bought bald-headed albino slave who entertains me by popping out of nowhere in a pink tutu dancing to the first few waltzes of The Nutcracker (when available). Clearly, I have everything. But I was browsing the interwebs the other day and found this opening for a copywriter.
For those who don’t know, the copywriter is the writer version of a prostitute. In the advertising industry, the copywriter supplies the words. In a more general corporate sense, depending on the company and the overpaid weasel who manages it, a copywriter may be asked to write speeches, annual reports, letters to the editor of some annoying but important broadsheet, the English essay assignment of the CEO’s seven-year-old daughter.
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