Whoever casts the first stone will not get hit in the head. A famous philosopher did not say that. I did, however, as I look toward Monday and the gray droopy sky that hangs outside my window. The job market reminds me of the sky. At this point in time, I cannot even fathom where I will end up nine-to-fiving. It appears to be a dying industry like print magazines and newspapers. Who’d had thought that after working for a company for nine years, I’d end up religiously reading the want ads on Sundays then praying for a miracle. Please, please, please pick me. Tell me that I will be the one out of four-hundred applicants to start on Monday.

Once I become employed, I promise to stop whining and surfing the web, to no longer play Free Cell or text my friends. My focus will be on the mountain of paperwork that sits on my desk. Where else would it be? During the day, I will never sneak a peak at my personal emails, with the exception of lunch, if you should be so inclined to offer that luxury. Money isn’t important. If you can’t pay me, I’d be happy to pay you for the privilege of working at your esteemed multi-billion dollar corporation.

After all, it would be an investment of sorts, like the stock market or a time share in Florida during the summer months. I could live with that and live without health benefits if it’s a problem. I exercise and eat well. In fact, I promise to never get sick again or to take a mental health day. I won’t let Monday morning’s depress me. I will take Prozac or Zoloft or any prescription drug I can get from Canada, so that I can sit at my desk with a smile. I will stay late and get in early and be on call all weekend if that is what you desire. I never liked Saturday, and you know how I feel about Sunday. Who needs to go home any way? I’ll bring in a cot or sleeping bag or even a fashionable futon. I love sleeping on the floor.

My life will be yours. I will worship you and send flattering notes about the company to the editors of my local newspapers. I will stand outside the building on my lunch hour and hold up a sign that says, “I love _____ Inc.” I will read every company newsletter, email and financial statement and be prepared to discuss their content at company events and parties, where I promise to stay stay sober. No Visine, coffee or breath mints will be necessary for me.

I will hang on every word my supervisor speaks, even when she is not addressing me, and I will also make her lunch. I’ll taste the food first to make sure it is edible before she takes a bite. I will vacuum the area around my desk every day and take out the garbage. I will lug home my supervisor’s plastic, glass and can empties for recycling. I’d be more than happy to do that for her or pick up her dry cleaning or go food shopping or have a colonoscopy. Nothing would be too big or too small for me. I’d even walk her dog, pick up the poop, and regularly clean out clumps of god-knows-what from the cat box. I like cats and dogs and will never let my allergies get in the way. Puffy red eyes and itchy skin makes me feel alive. God knows I could use some of that after enduring another Sunday of sitting on my ass, reading the want ads, while looking toward Monday.