Wednesday, April 26, 2006

The Dark Side of Candy



Today, boys and girls, we’re going to talk about candy abuse. By that I don’t mean that naughty, midnight sneak of the hand into the kitchen jar, or that time you got so excited about the revival of the Jawbreaker that you popped six of them and nearly choked to death.

That’s nothing but innocent fun.

I’m talking about real abuse.

Often times it’s brought about by stress. Like, say, when a corporation looking to take over the world calls you in to do a follow-up interview and makes you go four hours of back-to-back interviews without a lunch or water break.

And this corporation conducts these interviews next to a large jar of candy.

And then the corporation asks you, near the end of the 3rd hour, as you stare at that jar and wonder if it would be rude to ask for a piece at the end of the interview, what you would do to optimize the company’s sales in a country that hates your company and where company B has also launched a product. And as you look at the candy jar and the candy jar looks at you, you suddenly realize you have no answer for them, so instead you just start laughing maniacally.

What happens then?

Well let me tell you: in the first hour following the interview you consume two packs of gum, one fruit bar, some Kin’pos, 2 tablespoons of white sugar, 3 tablespoons of brown sugar and a lot of water to make sure none of it gets stuck in your throat.

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3 comments:

bikoko said...

but in the hand did you become a corporate whore ? or just a fatty whore?

Moko said...

ah, you want to know what the outcome was? or do you want to know what's in my hand? :)

in any case, i don't know yet.

also, keep in mind i use the word "corporation" to mean a grouping of three or more people standing within a 4-meter radius of each other. if i join their group, by my definition i become a corporate participator but not necessarily a corporate whore.

And the fat part--well, that's gonna happen regardless of whether or not I work for The Man.

Anonymous said...

You poor, fat chemical reactor! I think I would have headed straight for the chocolate-coated arms of Paul A. Young!