My Fellow Prostitutes
With one lone exception, everyone I know and love is looking for a job, whoring ourselves around the GTA in search of a better work/life balance. Or bank balance. Being perky, being "on" at the whim of some pallid HR operative who decided you make the grade. Researching, rehearsing, reassuring ourselves ten times over that we can pull this off. Making deals with God - "Just get me this job and I'll stop hating children". "Please get me a second interview and I'll do a better job of recycling."

Aluminum Sister (are you still out there?) is searching for a post-partum career. Sister StaceyPatrick is trying to avoid her own careerus interruptus. The Hubby is impressing the pants off recruiters everywhere. Chip seems to be trying to relocate as well - in case the pressure of job hunting isn't enough. And miracle of miracles, I have three interviews this week. I don't think that's ever happened. I feel wanted, needed, even ssssssexy.

So there it is. In answer to the inevitable "Why do you want to work for our company, Crabby?"

"Because you make me feel ssssssexy". Think it'll work?