Are you job hunting in a dumpster fire of an economy? Are you getting a lot of recruiters thanking you for your time, but deciding to go with someone else? Do you ever wonder who that someone else is, and what a god-like figure of unimaginable intellectual and interpersonal skills they must be?

Behold! For I am he.

And here’s how I beat out you unqualified peasants to land this role.

I meet all the requirements for the job, most of which are not listed in the job posting.

I have seven years of experience in a programming language invented two years ago, because for some reason, a 23-year-old HR associate wrote the technical requirements for this role.

I possess four post-secondary degrees and an island-nation-GDP’s worth of student debt from Harvard, or whatever the Harvard of this industry is. Unless the hiring manager went to a different school, in which case I bleed the color palette of his alma mater. Gooooooo sports mascot!

No, bleeding weird colors is not a medical issue that would impact my work performance. I am in perfect health, which makes me the perfect fit for the company’s non-existent health insurance benefits.

My cover letter is a 300-page literary masterpiece of ChatGPT hallucinations envisioning my career at this firm. It is a magnum opus that blurs the genres of techno-thriller, space opera, and fan fiction. The writing style is equal parts ethos, logos, pathos, and hypnosis to sway the interviewer into hiring me.

Patience is key. I waited a month between my phone screen and my first interview. Three months between my MBTI assessment and the IQ test. Two years between the twelfth round of interviews and the final vibe check, in which all the other employees brought their dogs to the office to sniff me and make sure I was cool.

I am doing an unpaid trial period, for which the metrics for success include a redesign of the company’s entire go-to-market strategy and discovery of at least one new billion-dollar customer segment.

My target salary is $60,000 a year. But I am willing to negotiate down to the minimum wage of Bangladesh, plus a holiday pizza party that is NOT from Little Caesar’s—I have standards, you know.

I am willing to do a variety of illegal things to increase company profits. This is backed up by the experiences listed on my resumé, which is chock-full of criminal activity. (Don’t worry, white-collar crimes only!)

I am happy to work 16-hour days. Or 16-hour weeks, spread across 30-minute shifts scheduled to coincide with all my personal obligations. Whatever is more convenient for the company.

I do not require luxuries such as shelter or sustenance. After work, I power down in a closet until the next morning, like Bender from Futurama.

I can work from the office. I can work from home. I can work from the ICU while recovering from open-heart surgery after getting shot (which is one of the normal and acceptable workplace hazards of this job).

I am the CEO’s nephew. He hired me because I know about all the skeletons in his closet. And the buried bodies at his lake house. See you at the family reunion/corporate retreat, Uncle Bill!