Not Hired

John Fitzgerald Page is famous for his retarded resume and dating drama.  We love him dearly.

Here he is on Dr. Phil:

Not Hired user, “Paula Plenty,” reports that a candidate for a customer service phone representative position talked to each of the three people with whom she interviewed about how important it was to have the ability to watch a portable television in her cubicle.  The candidate sealed her “not hired” fate by following up her interview with a letter that included:

I know you can understand that being allowed to watch TV helps keeps [sic] us sane during the downtime and giving good customer support really only takes one ear.  The customers on the phone don’t have to know that I have a TV and I like to watch TV at work because it doesn’t hurt my work, I have a mini TV that I like to keep on my desk and watch with a white earplug. My other ear can hear the phone and listen to customer support issues.  You have to trust me that it isn’t a problem even when very dramatic story is happening on my shows.

Hmmm…so you are looking for a non-traditional, creative writer with a sense of humor…are you? You want them to be very creative and funny to boot? You are asking for someone to “WOW” you through the written pages???!!! Well… You just might have found what you are looking for! Because this is what I do…you know…write creatively! You say that you’re not sure of what you’re looking for…but yet…you will know when you find it? I’ve been doing that for years. Maybe…just maybe…I have finally found my meritorious niche? You’ve asked your potential candidates, the question… Have they’ve always wanted to be a writer? Oooh!!! Oooh!!! Oooh!!! I do! I do! Pick me! Pick me! You’ve also asked your potential candidates, the question… Have they’ve always written? Oooh!!! Oooh!!! Oooh!!! I have! I have! Or at least…I’ve tried… You say that we might be a writer and not know it? Or an artist, playwright, dancer and the like? You say…that you might even take “whatever” we are…(Do we even dare reveal our true identity?)…and make us a writer of some sorts? Oooh!!! Oooh!!! Oooh!!! I’m your candidate! I’m your candidate! Hey…I’ve been looking to get into this field for a long time! I’ve dabbled here and there. Well…more like trickled… But…I love this business and I love being creative. And I love taking what is deep within me and turning into a stellar masterpiece!!! The question to ask is…have I been looking longer, than you have been searching? Only time will be able to solidify that question. However, I need to take a moment…if you don’t mind…to think? I would like to take my dogs for a walk in Bear Branch Park and mull this over. You are more than welcome to come along, if you would like? Maybe between the two of us…or is it three or four? We can determine…if we’re a great match? Since…I have more of an advantage of knowing what this park looks like, than you do. Let me set the proverbial stage for you… Oh…before I go too far…you will have to excuse the excessive ellipses…that I tend to use. I dunno…in order for me to get my thoughts across to my readers…I tend to take many “pause” breaks… But…I’m very willing to restrain myself from using them…if it begins to affect your psyche with overwhelming intensity. The Bear Branch Park is a dog friendly area. It has 2+ very shady acres…and it is separated into a large dog section and a small dog section. There is even a zoo…smack dab in the middle of the park…of all things. There is water available in both dog areas…many benches to sit upon and of course…dog-waste bags and waste containers. Dogs and companions are loving the shade and maybe…just maybe…while the dogs are having their “day in the park”…we owners…end up having too much time on our hands…to think about…well maybe…just about anything? As a friend once said… “Sometimes…I feel like…I really should write for a living…but I don’t particularly have a topic. Such is the case…at this moment. Then again…I seldom let a lack of coherence stop me from writing about anything else. Why change now? I have no good reason to do that either. And there you have it: I’m feeling too compelled to have a good reason to do things. Sure…I’m compelled to have a good job (most of us…I suppose) since we want frivolous things like food and a roof over our heads. Some of us even buy clothes. There are a few…that don’t…and I sincerely wish would…but I haven’t the heart to tell them. Actually… it’s just that I haven’t found the snidest way to put it to them…and I have my standards…after all. Admittedly…not very many and most of them are low (below the belt)…but I have some…written down…around here somewhere. Outside of life’s necessities…and even during them…there’s a remarkable tendency to do things the way people expect you to… To say what one would not be surprised to hear…such as one…you would say. I can’t think of a single good reason for this. Where’s the style…where’s the originality in that? How much inane boredom can a person take? When someone asks you…”How are you this morning?” Is it actually required for you to give them a straight answer? Instead of saying…”Fine.” When it isn’t true. How about coming up with a metaphor or simile…that will make them think and respect you? Something like… “I’m as defenestrated as a stale bagel”. Right off…they have to head to the dictionary…because chances are good, that they don’t have a clue what “defenestrate” means…”to throw something out of an upper-story window.” It’s a great word. So now…you’ve done them the service of stimulating their mind, first thing in the morning and creatively telling them, that you’re not so great. If you’re a stale bagel…you’re already feeling pretty bad about yourself…being thrown out of a window is rubbing salt in the wound. Kudos to you, if they’re not a “morning person.” I myself… am so bad in that respect… that I am immune to all vocabulary before at least 10:00 am. At best…someone will pick you up and throw you in a refuse container next to some dog ferments from the park…in a leaky bag from Kroger’s…where someone actually…for once…cleaned up after their dog. That sounds pretty awful…but it isn’t as bad as being “chowed” down upon by a Chow Chow…and eventually becoming dog ferments, yourself. So…when you tell your office mate…that…in effect…you feel like you’re on the verge of becoming dog ferments…you’ve darn well answered the question with considerable style.” Does that make you better than they are…because they asked such a normal question in such an unimaginative fashion? Maybe… Maybe it does…or maybe it doesn’t… Okay…so where does this leave us? Am I good potential candidate for you to consider as a “non-traditional” writer? Can this inept mind stimulate your reader’s psyche, that it thrusts your decision to the forefront and give this ole Texas gal (really from Florida…but don’t tell anyone)…a “spit-firing” chance? I hope so… I would like to shout from the biggest mountain in this great big…magnanimous… planet…called earth…with about as much muster, as I can come up with… ”PICK ME!!! PICK ME!!!” Yet…I realize…that I may be doomed to stand in that long tedious line of despondent “want-a-bee’s”…waiting to be discovered. Hopefully… after reflecting upon my multi-facet talents…you will be sure to crown me the victor!!! Oh don’t worry… I am quite heavily weighed down with a Bachelor’s Degree… along with many accolades…that could maybe…possibly…be disjointed. And my dress attire? Well…you should have no problems finding it quite fitting for an irreverent office. If I am deserving of such an astute crown…you may contact me at [deleted]@yahoo.com. Looking forward to your enthusiastic consideration!!! Okay…I am getting up now…need to go exercise my dogs again… Obviously… going to Bear Branch Park today…left me with way too much time on my hands…

Someone just reminded us about this classic cewebrity:

Visit Gawker to get a full sense of how John became Internet-famous.

These were the last two sentences of a cover letter; we still can’t figure out if there is a connection between them:

Found on Craigslist and passed along by “East Coast HR”:

It’s 10am and I’m not wearing a shirt. The new layer of deodorant I’ve just laid on is more than enough justification to go with out a shower. I put my basketball shoes on with out socks and my feet are already starting to sweat while I shoot bad guys in an escapists paradise, The Nintendo Wii.
My brain activity is off the charts today. In the few hours I’ve been awake, I have two 3d Cad designs for a couple of my inventions and at one new plan to make money is beginning to take hold of my focus. After completing my first round of weapons training.
I begin to hear noises coming from my old bedroom, which my room mate now calls home. In the back of my mind I’m thinking: [deleted], you are hearing things. It’s your paranoia getting to you. Before I could even finish that sentence, my mind’s other recognized competing train of thought comes running to the fore front of reason and reminds of the things I’ve been hiding all my life. This is usually accompanied by some vocalization about how I want to kill myself. I quickly come to the conclusion there may be some one in my house snooping through my secrets. I then think about the upstairs and how many places there are to hide. I begin to panic. My heart begins to beat so loud I wonder if [deleted] can hear it. My cat looks uninterested. I don’t hear any of the bells I’ve placed on doors upstairs. This should be a fact which makes me feel better but I just think the intruder is being careful. Even if I did hear them, the noises coming from the upstairs back right corner of the house would probably have drowned them out.
I continue with my game. Reload, Reload, Reload. I struggle to ignore the noises, which in retrospect, I realize are auditory hallucinations. I can’t go about my business because the stress of not knowing if something or some one is upstairs begins to eat at me. I eventually give in and prepare myself for a decision and then act accordingly. I first go to the utility drawer to look for a knife. Meanwhile I am psyching myself up to go into battle. Should there actually be some one hiding upstairs, I select a small pairing knife and close the drawer. I decide I’m going to hold the knife in my left hand with my thumb over the butt of