I Misread Your Craigslist Posting, and I’m Sorry,
But I Still Need a Job
Dear Prospective Employer,
I suppose I should apologize right out of the gate for sending this email, which I intend to do even though I have already realized my error in reading your ad as one looking for someone to write about socks. I was so excited when I (thought I) saw a listing titled “Write About Socks” that I managed to misread the actual listing as well. What I read is: We are looking for an expert writer to pen articles about specific socks in the U.S. sock market. Once a week to start. Please send resume and samples of your articles. But because I really want to write about socks—and because I figure that you might have a need for a sock writer but not know it yet—I will send this message when I am finished composing it.
While I have not written about socks professionally to date (and therefore have no sample article to send with this email, regrettably), I believe that I would be up to the task nonetheless. As a show of good faith, I will write something right now, on the spot, about socks.
Sock instructions: Every sock has a closed end and an open end. Select a sock and locate its open end. Insert foot into the open end until your toes reach the closed end. Repeat as necessary with a new sock and a different foot.
Pretty good, no? Did it, you know, knock your... somethings off? I bet it did (ironic as that would be). Even if you do not hire me as your staff sock writer, you have my permission and blessing to use that piece of elementary instructional sock writing in your company newsletter or on your website (which I have not visited but which I assume has a sidebar or the like for updates and such). Only that first one is free, though. For more great sock writing, you’ve got to bring me aboard full-time!
Yes, I know you’re looking for someone to write once a week (to start), but I’m confident that you’ll be so impressed by my ability—to say nothing of my enthusiasm for the subject matter—that you might soon be thinking about paying me not to write about socks. And likewise I am mindful that you are (not) looking for pieces to be written about specific socks, so I would of course rein in my near-boundless passion for the topic and focus my energies on crafting compositions that meet your particular needs. (In other words, if you tell me to put a sock in it, I will.)
For instance, if the sock of the moment is the hand-knitted tube sock, then the hand-knitted tube sock will be the object of my attentions. If it is the cotton/Lycra ankle sock, then... well, you get the point, I’m sure. You just name the sock, and I’ll write about the darned (ha!) thing.
I don’t have a resume, per se, but I do have a transcript from Vanderbilt University (something of a disappointment for the teenager who thinks he’s going to a “Vader-built” institution! I nearly transferred to Sith College in Massachusetts, but it’s an all-girls school), which I attach hereto.
I thank you in advance for your consideration, and I’ll look forward to hearing from you soon. You’ll probably want to snap me up right away, though, since I’m fairly confident I’m going to get that gig writing pubic service announcements.
Matthew David Brozik wrote this and many other short humor pieces, which have been published in print and online by The New Yorker, Adult Swim, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Grin & Tonic, The Big Jewel, and no one.