I Need a Job: Competition Runners-up

Our worthiest near-winners

As we anticipated, our latest competition really got you going. And we received so many ingenious and witty submissions from a field of over a hundred, that it seemed only right to share with you not just the brilliant winners but also the best of the rest. There’s a little bit of everything below, so we’re sure you will be entertained! Congratulations to all who made this competitive selection, and thank you to everyone who took the time to have some fun with the contest. There will be more, as you know full well!

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Hephaestus and IKEA

IKEA
96-98, Kifissos Avenue Egaleo
River West shopping center
12241 Egaleo
Athens
Hellas

To whomever it may concern,

I am writing to you today to nominate myself as a highly qualified and skilled potential candidate to be an employee of your business. I’ve recently noticed that both your designs and your executions are slightly lacking a certain ‘godly’ touch. As god of craftsmanship, I can surely help aid you in these areas – because if not me, then who? (That’s a rhetorical question; please don’t suggest an answer that isn’t me, I will cry, and nobody wants to see that)

If my time on Mount Olympus has taught me one thing, it’s how to deal with incompetent, self-righteous, useless and arrogant people, so dealing with customers and colleagues should be a piece of cake! Furthermore, I’m just about the most resilient person you will ever meet. My own mother threw me off a cliff because she thought I was “too ugly” and “lame” and “not enough like my brother Ares” (isn’t he just so perfect and the model god and can do no wrong?? I mean I’ve never started a war or killed people BUT I SEE HOW IT IS, MOTHER), and yet I still bounced straight back up and got myself a beautiful wife (who loves me and only me, obviously) and made a great life for myself!

Additionally, my talent in metal-working is simply unmatched. I could produce the most exquisite pieces of furniture to ever grace your shelves; my previous work has included handmaking the golden thrones on which the Olympian gods sit, and the armour of the illustrious and legendary Achilles. Moreover, I have a great deal of free time, as I usually spend my days creating magnificent inventions, alone with only my anvil, hammer, thoughts about who my wife is out having a clandestine liaison with, and prayers that it isn’t Ares again (I mean come on, of all the people!).

I’m excited to gain a loving community to surround myself with, that won’t call me ugly or sleep with my wife, but respect me and my work. Please find my CV below,

Sincerely,

Hephaestus

P.S. – I promise not to set you on fire if you give me the job…

Aimée Green, Northern Ireland

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Agrippa and Boris Johnson

Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa
Mausoleum of Augustus
Piazza Augusto Imperatore
00186 Roma RM
Italy

To The Rt Hon Boris Johnson,

Re: Personal Executive Assistant Role

I would like to apply to become your Personal Executive Assistant for your unconfirmed-but-definitely-happening-soon political revival campaign, as suggested by the attention-seeking desperation of alluded to in your Daily Mail column.

I am a professional right-hand-man (and son-in-law, if necessary), with a proven record of assisting blonde-haired megalomaniacs into power, particularly in the aftermath of political assassinations (self-inflicted or otherwise).

I can salvage your “Levelling Up” project, having turned brick to marble during my tenure as Rome’s Most Productive Man to Ever Exist™ (34 BCE–12 BCE). Some of my former projects include aqueducts, bathhouses, harbours, and the Pantheon, the latter of which has won the “Coolest Thing to Have Your Name Inscribed On” award for the last two millennia. Born breech, I am inherently good at putting my foot in it, but my ability to shovel merda is attested to by my cleansing of the Cloaca Maxima.

My long career is proof of my ability to navigate conflict, both military and familial, or both at once if you count that time I likely fought against my brother in Africa. I know that my experience of interfamilial political disputes will be of use to you. Additionally, my capacity for tasteful flattery and minding my own business is unmatched. Please feel free to give me entirely equal powers to yourself without fear that I’ll overstep; I have no recorded interest in expensive wallpaper, illegal parties, or Barnard Castle. I am easy to overlook, as my limited appearances in modern media display, and I am so discreet that even my autobiography is lost to history, as I’m sure you hope yours will be.

A skilled naval general, I can save the sinking ship of your political career, and I’ll always stand behind you (a Roman foot behind, to be exact). My humility will complement your opposite attributes, I’m sure, and since I am a novus homo, you would never be accused of hiring me for nepotistic reasons. No one is 100% certain as to how many children I have either, so this point of connection will hopefully make it easy for you to relate to me.

Should you wish to contact me, please leave one jug of fFlernum before my urn in the Mausoleum of Augustus. References are available from Cassius Dio – and Pliny the Elder even – without request.

I look forward to hearing from you soon.*

Yours sincerely,

Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa

*Should you fail to hire me, expect to see your name added to a proscription list in the near future.

Briony Havergill, England

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Sisyphus and the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology

To the Hiring Manager at South Dakota School of Mines and Technology,

After several millennia of futilely rolling a cosmically weighted boulder up an arduous hill, I am ready for the modern weight of middle management as the Communications Manager at the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology.

While alive, I was the first king of Ephyra – you’ve no doubt heard of me – and was willing to do whatever it took to maintain my domain without sacrificing my reputation. I believe this is what your institutions now call “optics.”

I may have limited experience in some of the particulars for this role; however, my cleverness rivals Zeus himself (though there is no need to remind him). As we know, technical skills are secondary. What’s most necessary is a presence, someone charismatic enough to convince others of what they speak.

In this regard, I think my track record speaks for itself. You’ll perhaps recall that I had a worthless brother, Salmoneus. He needed to be removed, but the gods have such onerous rules about fratricide – much like your modern “red tape,” I’m told. Undeterred, I seduced Salmoneus’ daughter in order to put my children from her on the throne. Modern bureaucracy will matter little to someone such as me. As your youth say, “I’ve got rizz.”

Though not technically alive, I have returned in spirit form to the world of the living before and can do so again. (After I died my foolish wife displayed my body exactly as I bade her, not understanding it was a test of her loyalty. I returned to ensure she rued her failure. Those who can’t discern true directions from false ones deserve no mercy. Holding people accountable for their failures is, of course, one of the hallmarks of a great leader.)

Like all true kings, I was a warrior in life and my physique is wonderful to behold. Despite my existence in the spirit realm, this boulder simulates a corporeal experience (the agony!) and my daily labors have kept the appearance of my body in truly magnificent condition. As Socrates taught, being around beautiful bodies is a path to seeing true Beauty. Brains teeming with ideas are so inspired by the Beauty around them those ideas burst forth. Imagine the creative impact I will have on those lucky enough to serve me, simply by gliding into the room.

Relating this letter to a scribe while maintaining my weary upward toil has been troublesome, but it adequately displays my ability to manage multiple projects at once through my formidable strength and mental acuity. Please convey any appreciation or gifts to the aforementioned scribe. He will coordinate when I am able to grace you with my presence.

It has no doubt been an honor to hear from me, and I am pleased to grant you this audience. I look forward to bestowing more such honors upon you in future correspondence.

(King) Sisyphus

Candy DenOuden, USA

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Thucydides and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

Thucydides, an Athenian, wrote this application for employment between himself and the CDC, believing that it would be a great job and more worthy of application than any preceding it. This belief was not without its grounds: an enterprise of accomplishment is without need for a great champion, but rescuing one whose humiliating depredations have offended the gods is a labor worthy of Heracles. Such is the CDC, such is Thucydides. I have written this application, not as one which is to win the applause of the moment, but as a possession for all time. This ends the first paragraph of the application of which Thucydides is the applicant.

Just as Cleon, son of Cleaenetus, the most detested man in Athens, had addressed the city, so too did Fauci, son of Stephen, a man of effeminacy in stature and deed, but of equal contempt, who spoke as follows:

“A democracy is incapable of reason, and never more so than by your present questioning of my decrees on plague. Ordinary men are incapable of managing public affairs better than the more gifted. The former question every proposition brought forward to the ruin of society. Countrymen, I am the science. I beseech you to mask, to vax, to cower, and even if you have survived the plague, you must still mask, vax, and cower.”

Such were the words of Fauci. After he had finished, Thucydides, son of Olorus, the author of this application, by Zoom from Thasos, spoke as follows:

“Americans! When a bureaucrat renders a medical decree for which he bears your subservience, Hippocrates demands that it is at least safe to grant his request and that a lasting benefit be retained. Who avoided plague by mask? By vax? By cower? None! We all fell victim. And some victim to the vax itself. And worst of all, Fauci believes that those recovered must still vax. A decree which defies all experience. In Athens, 2500 years passed, the same man was never attacked twice, at least fatally. Fauci has deceived you, and one who would deceive you can never again be trusted.”

Such were the words of Thucydides.

The Americans immediately sent a herald to Thasos to beg Thucydides to come to their relief. On receipt of their plea, Thucydudes at once set sail in order to reach America in time to prevent its capitulation. Meanwhile, Fauci, fearing Thucydides arrival from Thasos and his great influence over the inhabitants, hastened to regain the people by fear, plots, and intrigue. The winds of Poseidon delayed Thucydides, and by the time of his arrival, the Americans had all capitulated, but few.

Time and fear have finally relieved the people of the scourge that was Fauci, and in truce, have gathered their dead and set a trophy. But now, the CDC must right their error by hiring one who is honest, courageous, and true. Who has experience with plague and the leadership of men. Accordingly, Thucydides went first to Atlanta and offered sacrifice to Artemis….

Marc Garrett, USA

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Aristotle and James Gunn of DC Studios

To James Gunn, DC Films, Warner Bros-Discovery

Dear Mr Gunn,

I read with interest your notice for a script-doctor for the rebooting of your Extended Tales of Epic Heroes. I was perplexed why the state of the heroes’ footwear was at issue, but as I have written several treatises on anatomy and medicine, I sent a student to investigate your situation. He has not returned, but I am informed his imagination was so inflamed by these tales of “super men” that he is off building an empire.

Unwilling to risk another student, I investigated myself, and I must admit the older tales of these heroes are quite intriguing. The perfecting of mind and body, particularly in response to misfortune, creating an unattainable ideal that may yet be aspired to—our Athenian citizens would instantly recognize what’s going on there. If I may remove the “doctor’s hat,” as it were, and reference my other works on Politics and Poetics, tales of these idealized men and women are the building blocks of democracy.

I would be very pleased to assist you telling the tales of these heroes—all the more as I see why you advertise for a doctor rather than a poet. Your recent stories are injured, sir, riddled with pox, and bleeding out their most precious lifeblood: the emotions they evoke in their audience. Properly told, the perfectly constructed drama will bring your audience to a state of absolute connection with your hero—one with whom he shares no earthly quality—and yet in that moment of catharsis he is that foreign person, feels his pain as his own, and is forever changed. To live a moment as another, and then another, and then another, it makes our citizens better people, and thus more responsible voters.

Granted that is probably not the kind of tale you are telling, but I believe you will find the guidelines specified in my Poetics will serve you all the same if you understand them. They are not a checklist but a way to remove speedbumps that prevents your audience reaching catharsis. I identified the speedbumps by dissecting specimens of a certain type of play, but the principles distilled apply to any stories. As long as it’s an audience of human beings, you’re golden.

That said, Mr Gunn. Multiverses? Cynicism masquerading as realism? Decade-long nests of interconnected stories playing out in two- to three-hour segments released over years? Once-noble heroes made unrecognizable, corrupt, psychotic, or weak? Fan-baiting? CGI vomit? The Uncanny

Valley? Both your colleagues and your source material have made quite a lot of speedbumps in the past 40 years. I’m not sure you have anyone left who even recognize what they are.

Do not despair. There is nothing broken that cannot be fixed. Nevertheless, we have quite a lot of work to do.

I await your response at kalon@lyceum.phil

Aristotle

ATTACHMENT (handwritten lecture notes): I really cannot shake this notion of an Ideal Man or Superior Man and have scribbled a list you might find useful. I might expand it into a lecture at some point, but in the meantime, it’s a place to begin.

Chris Dee, USA

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The Minotaur and Wetherspoons Pubs

Position: Door Security ‘Spoons’, Leeds.

To whom it may concern.

It has been brought to my attention that the above position has recently become vacant. With a rich history of dealing effectively with troupes of youths, I feel I should throw my specially designed horn-hat into this bloody ring and help restore order – every Saturday night – to this great citadel of Victorian Industrial glory.

Despite the hubristic boastings of that completely overrated, double-dealing, attention-seeking, sister-stealing thug Theseus, I have remained unharmed and unchallenged in my beloved Labyrinth, maintaining a monk-like existence (no nasty social media skeletons in my closet – just a few remnants from my previous and highly successful past position).

Forgive me for my bullishness, but I feel I would be the perfect candidate to deal with the inebriated, who (emboldened by a bottomless brunch and a two-for-one offer on Jägermeister) willingly sacrifice themselves on the streets of this great city for an evening of shots and shenanigans.

I look forward to the opportunity of meeting you in the near future (don’t wear red) and to a time when my highly-polished hooves can tap out a sense of restored dignity to the threshold of your highly renowned establishment.

With the Very Best Regards

The Minotaur

Caroline Davenport-Jones, England

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Lucasta and Donald Trump

By hand,^[1]Note to the messenger in the event the recipient asks for my contact details: if he looks like his future is saved, runs around the room skipping and singing, or laughs like an evil maniac: organise a meeting; if he thunders, shouts, and threatens to kill you: offer yourself to him and do not under any circumstances give my contact details. Your family will thank you for your discretion. Office of Mr Trump

To the Most Esteemed Mr D. Trump,

It has come to my attention that you are encountering some troublesome opposition and I wanted to offer my services to you. I have helped many a politician in your situation and work with the utmost discretion to provide tailored solutions for dealing with “problematic” individuals. My area of expertise is the use of natural resources to bring about an unremarkable demise, and I wonder if you may like to deal with your troubles the Roman Way. I admit woeful wives and zealous mothers are my traditional customers, but in the spirit of equal opportunities, I have opened up my services to maintain business (and those ever-important 5 stars). Fortunately for you, this means I am offering you the revered opportunity of a “special relationship” with me (as long as the right amount of financial persuasion is provided, of course).

I have worked with a wide variety of clients, from royalty, to celebrities, to emperors, to their wives, and I understand the importance of efficiency, prudence, and style. I believe there is no need to ruin a perfectly good dinner party simply because of a poisoned chalice. If you don’t want to carry the burden yourself, I can provide an animal to dispense it for you. Whether ingested, injected, or inhaled; immediately effective or delayed; a tincture, food, or chemical; painless, melts them from the inside out, or burns the skin right off them: you name it, I can provide the best solution.

I started in the industry after falling into a sticky situation with a (now ex-) husband and found I had a natural ability to harness the properties of plants; I realised I could use my newfound knowledge to aid fellow wives in my situation and it all grew from there. I know poison has gone out of fashion recently, but it is by far the most effective method so long as you follow my instructions. Collapsing barges and “accidental” drownings are so last millennium; let me help you do it in style. Your exhortations of bleach a few years ago caught my attention and although it has potential, I must insist we go in a different direction on this occasion. Very few of my clients have been accused of foul play, and so long as you don’t be that person who leaves the feather lying by the lectus or the leftovers in the kitchen, you won’t be one of them.

I would provide references, however, my employers are often reluctant to be named, and those who experience my services are not in a position to verbally vouch for me. I look forward to hearing from you and sharing some ideas.

Yours Sincerely,

Lucasta of Gaul

P.S. I reserve the right to verbal, financial, and emotional blackmail and require an extra 20% for appeasing the gods and my own moral and mental health.

Amelia Colquhoun, Scotland

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Julius Caesar and King Charles III

Your Royal Highness, King Charles,

For the two thousand years since my death, my failure to conquer Britain has haunted me. I have followed British politics closely, waiting for the perfect moment to make a comeback. I think that now is the right time to strike; in recent years, you have had a Prime Minister that spoke at least as much Latin and Greek as he did English, a Chancellor that adopted a Roman haircut, and now I see that your current Prime Minister has brought back a previous ruler to assist him with foreign affairs. The precedent has been set for my return.

I am therefore writing to you to apply for the job of Prime Minister. As well as the skills gained from my time as Dictator, I am used to being stabbed in the back, which should come in handy in modern British politics.

Aside from my own talents, I will bring some other figures from the ancient world to serve in the Cabinet with me, none of whom studied PPE at Oxford:

• King Midas shall be my Chancellor and shall have a hand in bringing back the gold standard;
• having served as an advisor to the Trump Administration, Emperor Hadrian shall apply his considerable experience building walls to a greater range of public infrastructure projects. He intends to take HS2 to Eboracum and beyond, all for a few denarii less than planned now that Spartacus is not around to cause any problems;
• Pontius Pilate shall be my Chief Whip and will undoubtedly be the scourge of any backbencher thinking he is the messiah, when really he is just a very naughty boy;
• there are few political slogans that echo down the ages, but “Carthago delenda est” is one of them. Cato the Elder shall serve as my Director of Communications;
• my Minister for Devolution shall be Emperor Diocletian. No stranger to radical constitutional change, addressing the West Lothian question should be small fry for him;
• though I had planned to make Hippocrates Secretary of State for Health, I thought that you may prefer for this position to be split between Hippocrates as Minister for Conventional Medicine and Pliny the Elder as Minister for Alternative Medicine;
• Zeus shall come out of retirement to serve as Energy Minister, solving the energy crisis with the enthusiastic use of lightning bolts;
• Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, shall take the Women and Equalities brief. Let us hope that Heracles does not try to take it from her;
• And last, but by no means least, the Downing Street cat shall be replaced with something more fitting for the centre of British politics: Cerberus (assuming he is not caught by the ban on bully XLs).

I look forward to being invited to form a government and can be reached via Ouija board at your convenience.

Yours sincerely,

Julius Caesar

William Urukalo, England

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Propertius and Starbucks

Sextus Propertius, 30 summers now
          that I have seen
And wish to flog a wage in the Cthulhucene.

Studied Hesiod dull and Homer grand
With Quintus Grammaticus; somewhat understand

The art of argle bargle and hocus pocus
As pounded in my head by Rhetor Marcus.

All my friends say I’ve a way with words
And when I recite my poems the crew applauds.

Have never led a team or balanced books;
Am good with beverages and persuasive looks.

In short, though every tranche of labor sucks,
I’d like an entry-level gig at Starbucks.

Michael Helsem, USA

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Cacofonix and the British Poet Laureate

To whom it may concern on the appointments panel, here is a statement in support of my application for the post of Poet Laureate.

Allow me to introduce myself: My name is Cacofonix the Bard. My reputation is such that my exploits are recorded in the Asterix books by Goscinny and Uderzo, available in English, French and occasionally, Latin.

Sadly, my talents were not entirely appreciated in my previous position in the world of the Gauls. My singing has been described as “caterwauling”, which I find somewhat disrespectful of my unique gift. Since chancing upon contemporary society, I have noticed that the youth of today don’t pay much attention to poetry, but do enjoy rock and pop music. Stepping into a new role, I could perhaps attune my voice to the grating style of grunge or punk rock.

I hope that the newly-appointed Poet Laureate will have a chance not only to write verse, but also to set it to music. You will be aware, being such a learned appointments panel, that the word sonnet, a verse form beloved by William Shakespeare, derives from the Italian sonnetto, originally meaning little song. Furthermore, Greek poetry used to be sung by a chorus.

As to my presence here, my last recollection is of being plied with a large flagon of mead by friends while on a road trip to Londinium. I passed out and fell into a deep sleep and awoke much later, feeling suitably refreshed. The drink, which, in hindsight, had a strong after-taste of herbal and mushroom extracts, did seem to have a powerful, and indeed magical, effect. This concoction must have been given to me in error, as I usually refuse any potion which might harm my vocal cords. As a result, I missed my chance to sing to the assembled crowds in the Londinium arena.

I play the lyre and could learn to play other string instruments. History inaccurately relates how Nero fiddled while Rome burned, and while he would probably have played a cithara, rather than a violin, the latter might suit my personality: sensitive and highly-strung. I could learn to play in the flamboyant style of Nigel Kennedy. Or like Topol, I could fiddle from the rooftops, allowing your fair city to be rid of all feral rodents, as the high-pitched whine would cause them to leave the area immediately.

I am pleased to learn that plagiarism appears to be quite common in your culture. This is right up my street. I’d like to teach the world to sing, perhaps not in perfect harmony; but close enough. Anything would be an improvement on the discord which currently reigns throughout your lands. If you are still not convinced of my suitability for the role of Poet Laureate, I’d like to leave you with this thought:

Let me take a marching band

And lead you through the streets of London

Sing you something to make you change your mind…

Angela Lord, England

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Demetrius Moschus and the BBC

Ornatissimi viri – κοσμικώτατοι ἄνδρες: Honoured Sirs of the British Broadcasting Corporation, my name is Demetrius Moschus, scribe, poet, and playwright, and I wish to apply for the post of comedy writer at the BBC. I am newly come from Sparta to the court of his magnificence Ludovico Gonzaga, in the fine city of Mantova.

The date here is 1478 and by some miracle of mysterious technology, I’ve been listening to the radio, particularly the comedies you broadcast at 6.30 p.m. (your time) and I do not think they are in the least bit funny. I am sure that I could do better.

My Latin is excellent, my Italian fluent, Greek of all kinds is no mystery to me, and only recently I met an Englishman on his travels who made me a master of his noble tongue.

I’m also a poet. Who does not know my epic of Helen and Alexander? Therefore, when his stupendousness, the duke, stopped me in the courtyard the other day, and in anguished tones told me that he was BORED, BORED, and needed some new ENTERTAINMENT, the script of my comedy of NEAIRA was drafted within the week. I wrote it in my best Attic Greek. My master is a learned man and so are all members of his court.

I admit the plot owed a lot to the plays of Plautus, Terentius and the Greek Menandros – I’d read their works in my master’s library: the handsome young lead (Kleinias) loses the money that his father Pantagoras has given him for a trip to Rhodes to the beautiful courtesan, Neaira. The last scene, however, was all mine and it was a stunner. Enter a Babylonian magician called Thalassandros – all fire and smoke and magic spells – and the stolen gold miraculously appears in the clenched fist of the young master.

The cast of actors was stellar. My friend, the great Angelo Poliziano played the part of Kleinias. He pronounced the Greek wonderfully but even he was put in the shade by a young protégée of his, Alessandra Scala:

θαμβέομεν πάντες πῶς εὐμαρὲς ᾽Ατθίδα γλῶτταν
     ἤπυεν ἀπταίστως, Αὐσονὶς οὖσα γένος

We were all amazed at how naturally and correctly she spoke Attic, being Ausonian by birth. (Poliziano’s own words!)

Sensibly, I think, I saved the finale for Duke Ludovico. He took the part of Pantagoras and closed my comedy, with great authority:

ὦ πασῶν ἐμοὶ χαριεστάτη ἡ νῦν ἡμέρα ἀναλάμψασα. ὡς ἥδιστον, ὦ Πανταγόρα, ὡς τὰ πάντα εὐτυχεῖς· καίτοι σὺ πρώην παϑεῖν ἐκινδύνευες τὰ δεινότατα διὰ τουτονὶ τὸν υἱόν σου. Μηδείς ποτε κᾂν ταῖς ἐσχάταῖς ᾖ δυστυχίαις ἑαυτὸν ἀπελπιζέτω.

This day that has dawned is the most delightful to me of all. How pleasant, Pantagoras, how fortunate everything is for you; and yet, you were recently in danger of suffering the worst because of your son. Let no one ever despair, even if they find themselves in the utmost misfortune.

Who knows? He (Ludovico, that is) could do the same for you. Forget ‘Just a Minute’, or ‘The Now Show’, give me a job and an English production of my Neaira is yours for the asking. I guarantee that it will be the Comedy hit of the year!

Peter Hulse, England

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So there we are! A jolly good show all round. Our next competition will land in April.