I was a born job creator. Actually, even before I was born, I was already out creating good jobs, useful jobs, right here in America. Mommy was too busy and, let’s be honest, she didn’t want to ruin her perfect size eight figure carrying around a fetus for nine months. So after her egg and Daddy’s special seed were combined in a test tube (creating jobs for some enterprising lab technicians), I was implanted in my surrogate mother, a nice girl from Weehawken trying to scrape together enough money for a new transmission and brake job.
Once I was born, I created many more jobs. There was one for a full-time nanny, of course, but I was always busy in my marvelously creative way making more work for the maids, butlers, cooks, chauffeurs … I mean, where do you draw the line on my job-creating capabilities? I had to have the latest and best gadgets, which helped pump up the economy. I needed a lightweight, carbon fiber stroller and bouncy chair, a Prada changing table, as well as a wet nurse (because even though Mommy thought breast feeding was personally disgusting, she’d read that breastfed babies were more intelligent and better adjusted).
I needed all the latest toys, of course. Our various homes were strewn with motorized minicars, swimming pools, video arcades, a bowling alley and game rooms staffed with my own personal trainer and on-call playmate, Cisco.
I created a job for a full-time videographer to record my childhood for posterity so that my eventual biographer would have plenty of original source material. It also was a convenient way for Mommy and Daddy to keep up with my endeavors, since they were rarely around to witness them first-hand. Instead, they were able to review the videotaped highlights when they came home late from the latest charity ball or job-creating trip to the Orient, the Continent, or the Club.
When I got older, I created jobs at school. You’d be amazed how many workers a good boarding school needs to keep all us job creators happy. Bedsides the faculty, administration and maintenance staff, there were psychologists, art and music tutors, tennis and golf pros, riding instructors, financial planners, as well as security personnel to guard us from the local riffraff. And let’s not forget the numerous guest lecturers, visiting poets, and itinerant musicians, dancers and other performers who came to help enrich our impressionable minds.
Time flew by and soon I was out on my own with nothing but a modest trust fund and a small chalet that I’d inherited from my job-creating grandfather, The Duke of Avon. From this meager beginning, wearing little but the cashmere sweater on my back, I went on to found one of the greatest job-creating enterprises of my generation: TempWorld. The idea came to me in a flash: Nobody really wanted to work anymore. All my friends in college had no interest in ever getting actual jobs. Of all the job creators I had met growing up, few, if any of them, really enjoyed going to the office every day to shuffle papers and sign checks. There had to be better ways to create jobs than that.
So I began TempWorld, a service that allowed other job creators to fire their full-time employees, those millions of workers who were miserable and sad and hated going to work all day, every day. Instead, TempWorld provided readily available (because of the increasing unemployment from all the firings) temporary workers, perfectly willing and even excited about doing almost anything for even a few hours a day, at less than half as much as the fired workers had been paid. Now, instead of having a bunch of overworked, overpaid employees, we had everyone working a minimum number of hours, just enough to stay alive.
I didn’t stop there. I realized that there were many more people all over the world who wanted jobs so badly they’d be willing to work for literally pennies an hour. Soon I was creating jobs in countries no one had ever even heard of, doing things that no worker in the U.S would even consider doing, like mining for valuable metals right in their own raw sewage. I was creating jobs blowing up mountains to get at the underlying coal, or fracking under that to get at the untapped gas – all of which I owned the rights to. How can you possibly create any jobs unless you own everything valuable that needs to be blasted apart? Hmm? Answer me that.
And what kind of thanks do I get for a life of job creation, for a life of minding my own patriotic business and trying to keep as many people busy cleaning up my shit as I possibly can? I get threatened with tax increases, just because I make a little more money than some of my employees. How is that fair? I think everyone should be taxed in the same way. What’s great about this country is that every man has the same opportunity to hire the best legal minds and lobbyists and have all those tax laws rewritten for their benefit. Then they can go out and use the money they save, like I do, to create even more jobs like building new factories in China or blowing up old mountains in Chile.
The next frontier is space. Pretty soon I’ll be creating jobs for astronauts and stewardessnauts to take me on little interplanetary expeditions to the nearest planets or stars or wherever they have the best sushi and club scenes. I’m going to be a job creator until the day I die; it’s just the kind of guy my parents, surrogate parents, and a staff of hundreds – bless their hearts – raised.
