Dear Sir, Madame, or Hermaphroditic High Chancellor:

I am writing to commend your proletariat-crushing progress and express my willingness to join your blood-thirsty ranks. I think you will greatly appreciate my gold-lust and past exploitations.  You will find in my resume, between the obligatory confabulations of the capitalist machine, the history of a giant standing on the shoulders of dwarves.  As such, I am perfectly qualified for and fully prepared to accept your Chief Expendable Officer position.

I have always considered myself a people person.  With unbounded dedication I have diligently applied the teachings of the Marquis de Sade to the otherwise mundane call-center environments where I have spent many of my recent employments.  If you too are of a keen intellect, you will quickly grasp the joie de vivre inherent in conversations deftly executed which leave profound marks upon the callers and profound voids in their pocketbooks.  I am here reminded of the wise words of Conan when asked what was best in life: “To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women”.

My proven management skills, like so many of my professional techniques, are built of the stuff of legends.  The pillory, the lash, and the rod have not faded from my fashion ideal; nor have they faded as compasses for right action, tools for team building, or instruments of office merriment.

Please do let me know if your company has failed to support open standards such as the Open Document Format and I will gladly convert my resume into the inferior, proprietary, bourgeoisie file format of your choice (doc and pdf are common enough).  Alternatively I can print my resume out for you on unbleached hemp-cotton paper and ink it with the blood of the innocent, if that is more to your preference.

Sincerely,

James

Viva La Revolución!