Lord, Beer Little Miss Sunshine Strength

For the most part, I am Little Miss Sunshine.



No, not Abigail Breslin. I'm not nearly that adorable or that good a dancer.

I am, however, chipper, cheerful and always quick with a smile. So much so that the construction workers at my office actually call me, 'The Girl With The Smile' (highly, highly creative bunch).

However, every now and then -- the sheer asininity of her fellow man makes Little Miss Sunshine want to eat her own eyeballs out of frustration.

So, for no other reason than to help me feel better, permit me to rant a little via a series of open letters:

Dear Sir:

Calling every day is slightly excessive. Calling four times before 12:00 p.m. on the same day? Behavior worthy of a restraining order. Besides, I do not have the ability to make jobs magically appear. If I did, I would create some gloriously overpaid position for myself as pop culture blogger.

Thanks!

Jaime

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Dear Ma'am:

If you can't figure out how to apply for one of our jobs, you're probably not qualified for the job itself. Oh and for the record, going to the correct website makes applying for the position that much easier.

Thanks!

Jaime

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Dear Sir:

If you are 17-years-old, you've basically grown up with internet access. You should be able to navigate a website and shouldn't need someone to hold your hand throughout the whole process. You could probably find internet porn blindfolded with a hand behind your back. Let's try to apply some of those skills to the job-hunting process, shall we?

Thanks!

Jaime

______________

Dear Ma'am:

Applying for every job means you're probably as qualified for them as Sarah Palin is to be vice president of the country. I.E. -- Not at all.

Stop applying.

Thanks!

________________

Lord, Beer Me Strength. No. Strike that. Lord, silo-sized margarita me strength.