Counselor: Well, it’s your senior year, and it’s about time that you started to think about your future, specifically in regards to a career. I’ve reviewed your transcript, gone over your aptitude test scores, and I have spoken with some of your teachers. I seem to be running into a bit of a problem.
You: What exactly is the problem?
Counselor: You’re qualified to do nothing and you’re irretrievably stupid.
You: That seems kind of harsh.
Counselor: I’m sorry. I suppose your entire life, your parents have told you that you’re smart and capable?
You: Of course they have.
Counselor: People lie don’t they? I have never encountered anyone so ill-equipped to enter the workforce in all my years of being a guidance counselor, and this school is full of stupid kids. Sometimes in think there’s lead in the drinking water.
You: You’re exaggerating, I can’t be that hopeless.
Counselor: Am I? In mathematical aptitude, you answered correctly only 25% of the time.
You: One out three isn’t that bad.
Counselor: Exactly my point. In your English essay you seem to have confused Angie Dickinson with Emily Dickinson.
You: No I didn’t.
Counselor: Let’s see what it was that you wrote? Here it is: Emily Dickinson was smoking hot in Big Bad Mama.
You: I don’t remember writing that.
Counselor: You have terrible memory skills.
You: That’s not fair.
Counselor: And a delusional perception of fairness.
Counselor: You also have trouble completing a thought. Moving on to geography; you couldn’t find Chile on a map.
You: That can’t be that uncommon.
Counselor: It was a map of Chile.
You: I thought it meant the restaurant.
Counselor: You mean Chili’s, I doubt you could find your way through the children’s maze on their placemats.
You: Yes I can, I always use the green crayon.
Counselor: You also seem to have absolutely no grasp of economics or government.
You: I know a little about government.
Counselor: You listed the three branches of government as strawberry, vanilla and chocolate.
You: Neapolitan government.
Counselor: You took a course on New York State history didn’t you?
You: Yes I did.
Counselor: Yes you did. You listed the state capitol as Albania. You claimed that the Erie Canal was named thusly, because it was “really spooky.” And you listed the first mayor of New York City as Babe Ruth.
You: It wasn’t Babe Ruth?
Counselor: No. It was Lou Gehrig.
Counselor: NO YOU MORON, it was Thomas Willett. This next one is especially perplexing: under state bird you put Bigfoot. I find that disturbing for at least fifteen different reasons. I’ve come up with four categories of jobs that I believe you could handle. They are as follows:
- Jobs requiring a shovel: digging ditches, digging graves, digging holes in general, and whomping rats.
- Jobs requiring a pitchfork: moving piles of hay, moving piles of straw, and joining angry mobs that are hunting rogue monsters.
- Jobs requiring a shovel and a pitchfork: moving horse manure, moving cow manure, moving goat manure, basically moving any type of manure.
Jersey Shore cast member. Sorry that’s been cancelled–you probably couldn’t find New Jersey on a map anyway.
You: I don’t know. I find that shovels and pitchforks are complicated and difficult to use, and sweating gives me a rash.
Counselor: There is one other job. Would you be willing to scale steep cliffs and harvest honey, while angry bees sting you repeatedly?
You: There would be no manure or feces involved?
Counselor: Not unless you’re horribly afraid of heights.
You: I’ll do it.
Counselor: Welcome to the world of Himalayan Bee Keeping.
You: Is it close to home?
Counselor: With your map skills it is.