Overqualified: I need to be a chicken farmer


To: Human resources, Chicken Farmers of Nova Scotia
Re: General Manager (Chicken Farm)

I am writing to you in response to your posting of December 11th, seeking an individual with strong administrative background for the position of General Manager with the Chicken Farmers of Nova Scotia. I am enclosing my resume, and I am certain that you will agree that I am more than qualified for this job.

As my resume shows, I have been working in the Chicken Farming industry since June 26th, 1971. Back then I was a clean-faced boy of seventeen, with a passion in my heart and a purpose in my step. I didn't know a thing about chicken farming, and being young and foolish, I didn't believe that I needed to.

I thought that my revenge would come easily, and so at first I learned only from my mistakes. I was filled with the fires of fantasy, and I imagined myself a Chicken apocalypse that would wash the surface of the globe, leaving behind only carnage. I blundered from farm to farm, and it wasn't long before they knew I was coming. It was only through the faking of my own death that I escaped their wrath. But it made them wary.

And so my resume indicates that following my "death", I moved from chicken farm to chicken farm, often staying for no more than a few months. I can imagine that it is difficult to consider someone who seems so unreliable, and that is why I feel I must be frank with you. I cannot promise that I will stay with your company for longer than a month. In the past I have stayed as long as a year, but I want you to be aware that there have been instances where I have been forced to tender my resignation much sooner. The chickens seem to get smarter every year, and often I find myself in the awkward position of leaving employers in the lurch.

It is important that you understand; The chickens cannot know what I am up to. It is only through infiltrating the chicken farms of the world, that I can truly hope to discover their plans. It has taken me a long time to come to this conclusion. At first I was content to work at hatchet jobs, taking my revenge on one feathered throat at a time. But they are innumerable, and there are Chicken Farms in every province. I realized that I must stop them all, that it was my mission. So I move from farm to farm, learning more about their plans, putting the pieces together. I stay only until the chickens begin to suspect me, and then I must move on.

I am not a monster. There have been chickens along the way that have earned my respect, that have seemed almost decent to my foolish heart. But my heart is indeed foolish and blind, and I have long ago learned that its advice is useless in the real world. It is only common sense, cold and hard, that can possibly see me through this. It is only my intelligence which can save our planet. If not my own soul.

I hope that my honesty has aroused something like trust in you, and I hope that you will provide me with employment on your farm. You may contact me by email or telephone, night or day.

Respectfully,

Joey Comeau.