—REAL JOB POST—
(Truncated for your reading pleasure)
“Captain experience and resume necessary.
- Possess an in depth knowledge of the lower Willamette and lower Columbia rivers.
- Deliver safety announcements (and narration when applicable) over public address system.
- Enforce disciplinary action within the guidelines of the department and the company.
- Train operations crew in public relations, including, but not limited to, dealing with intoxicated persons and assisting children and physically challenged people.”
—THE COVER LETTER I SUBMITTED—
Ahoy HR Manager!
This is your future Captain Garred speaking. If the picture above is not proof enough of my familiarity with bodies of H2O, then indulge me momentarily before deleting this email.
1965: Spent nine months inside mother’s watery uterus composing “Octopus’s Garden in the Shade.” The Beatles later stole the song for their dumb album, Abbey Road. Ringo!
1968: First time I saw a lake. According to father, I ran directly into the water and slammed, face-down, into the ice cold mass. Quickly realized I wasn’t amphibious.
1969: Took first bath.
1970: Completely terrified by water, yet wanting to prove I was manly, peed in Mississippi headwaters.
1971: Unable to hold bladder (common theme), burst into bathroom to discover my dad bathing while standing. What confused me even more was his penis, which looked like a snapping turtle wearing a Montgomery Ward’s turtleneck.
1972: Took swim lessons. Learned that chlorine burns your fucking eyeballs.
1977: Nearly drowned during rowing incident on Cheney’s Pond. Despite being ten feet from shore, my brother had to rescue me.
2000: Made mistake of going on Caribbean cruise with about-to-be ex-girlfriend. She had a horrible reaction to fish that, overnight, aged her 40 years. During roundtable dinner with a dozen other ship guests, explained to them how she looked like “That woman in the episode of Star Trek where she’s trapped behind glass and Captain Pike is falling in love with her. When he breaks the glass thinking he’s rescuing her, Pike discovers she’s been in a horrible spaceship accident and she’s not young and pretty after all, but has been horribly disfigured by the wreck. After eating that fish, that’s what my girlfriend looks like.”
2000: Receive email from ex-girlfriend with comment, “Thanks for sharing the Star Trek story with everybody, asshole.”
As for your responsibilities, I have cycled by parts of the Willamette and Columbia.
I’m can make entertaining announcements such as, “EVERYONE. WE JUST HIT AN ICEBERG!” Which is funny, because neither river has icebergs.
If a disciplinary action is necessary, I’ll happily toss guests into the water and laugh at them.
I’m exceptional at dealing with “intoxicated persons and assisting children,” especially when the latter has sampled our private stock of Wild Turkey (and must be shot into the side of the Burnside bridge through one of the Sternwheeler’s many torpedo tubes).
IT’S A HIT!
That last line was referring to the thing submarine Captains say when their torpedo successfully nails the target. I know Captaining terminology.
Now, get on the foghorn and call me from your marine phone. I’ve got offers pouring in from Princess Cruise Lines to sail the tropics, but would much rather guide a Sternwheeler down a dirty brown river.