Wednesday, December 13, 2006

ManPower? Effing Speciests...

My agent has decided to take action. As I predicted, my treats have been eliminated due to my curvy figure. Or, how about I put it the way she did: "HUSKY AND PLUMP CHUNKINESS!"

"Oh, Kukka! I had no idea your girth had grown to such an extreme! While I should blame myself for distributing treats non-stop, I blame you! You are lazy! You sleep up to 18 hours each day!"

Stunned by her words, I defended myself. "Come on, lady! I can't open the refrigerator. I can't open treat jars. I think we share the blame--90/10."

"Fine. I call it! I'm the 10%," she shouted, pumping her fist in the air with what she believed to be a sweet victory.

I thought of name-calling, but went with good ol' sarcasm. "I'm happy you find my health issues so thrilling you feel you need to do a victory lap of the living room!"

"You know, Kukka. If you want treats, you could always get a job and buy some for yourself," she muttered under her breath.

"FINE BY ME!" I swatted my tail in her general direction and stormed from the room, hiding the puzzled look on my face. "A job?" I thought, my heart practically pounding out of my multiple-nippled chest. "How do I get a job?"

Since I wasn't looking for permanent work (OH DEAR GOD, NO!), I opted to contact Manpower for a temporary opportunity.

The phone call to Manpower was lengthy and exhausting, mostly due to the fact the kind, but clearly stupid, gentleman struggled to understand Meow (and, in my stubbornness, I refused to speak English). Finally, he asked me to come in for an interview.

Despite my history of making movies, cutting albums, and writing best-selling books, I've never had a "real job," so I had to think long and hard about how I should look when I went for my interview. I opted to wear my glasses because I felt I looked less super-sexy and more super-smart. You can imagine how difficult it is for me to look less super-sexy, but I thought it wise not to overwhelm them with my animal magnetism. Because the only clothing I really have is custom-designed red carpet gowns (which were way too fancy) and that hideous muumuu (which, well, was way too hideous), I decided to neatly groom my fur and call it good.

My agent refused to drive me, so I called for a limo. In hindsight, I suppose my first mistake was to drink too much complimentary champagne. Two bottles. I thought I could handle it, believing my extreme weight to off-set the effects of the alcohol.

I was terribly wrong.

Stumbling into the Manpower office, I was ushered into a small conference room, where a smartly dressed woman was waiting.

"I'm Carolyn," she said in the sweetest version of her voice she could offer. "You must be Kukka-Maria."

"EMPRESS Kukka-Maria."

"Right. Do you have your application and résumé?" she asked, her voice now as shrill as a cat in heat.

"Do you have my shit in your hand?" I slurred.

"Language, please. Language!" she shrieked. "I suppose we can continue without those very important documents you should have had with you."

I put my hand behind my back to secretly give her the middle claw. While not directly confronting her, it made me feel much better.

Squinting, she judgmentally continued. "Now, when Barry spoke with you on the phone, you mentioned something about being a celebrity. And you made it evident to me you are also an empress. Can you tell me a little bit about that and what skills you think you can offer an employer, based on that experience?"

I flopped over on my back and stroked my multiple nipples as I explained, "I'm super-sexy. I'm royal. I am royally, super-sexy...and that's the word, turd!"

"I see," she mumbled. Clearly flummoxed, she adjusted the papers on her lap. "Can you file?"

"Nope."

"Can you pour coffee?"

Looking at her with a sly grin, I rolled my eyes. "Do you see opposable thumbs? How would you expect me to grasp a coffee pot? That's just an accident waiting to happen!"

"How about typing."

"Negative."

"But, don't you have a blog you author? How do you type that?"

Stifling my giggles and offering up a deafening champagne belch, I snickered. "Um...I have employees who take care of those menial tasks for me."

"Empress, why are you here?" she inquired. "You clearly do not want to work. You are belligerent and you are obviously intoxicated!"

As I rose and began stumbling around the room, I explained. "I need to earn some serious Benjamins 'cause I gots to have my treats!" Deliberately delivering each word as slowly as I could, I tried desperately to sound completely sober. Fearing I may have already botched my first impression, I hoped I could still turn this around.

"Well, Miss Maria," she said with lips pursed tightly. "What skills do you have?"

This was going to be easy! I excitedly responded, "I can seduce males of all species with a single bump of my booty. I've won seven consecutive wet t-shirt contests at spring break in Mexico. I can swear in 8 different languages...but not Canadian English. I don't understand Canadian English. I can dance on bars, out-drink most people shot for shot, booby trap my yard to capture the paparazzi, and describe sexual encounters with ex-celebrity-boyfriends in such detail it will make your head spin. I can whip my tail both clockwise and counter-clockwise. I can..."

"Listen, Empress. I am sorry, but I don't think we have a position for someone...like you."

"LIKE ME..."

"Yes. I think you might be...um...under-qualified for the positions we can offer."

Shaking my head, I had to ask the question that you are asking yourself right now. "Don't you mean OVER-qualified?"

Bumbling her words and strategically avoiding eye-contact, she responded. "YES! Yes, I mean over-qualified. Yes. That's it."

"I thought so. I mean...I am extremely gifted," I smirked. "Well, then. Are you going to, at least, hook a sister up with some snacks?"

"There are Christmas candies at the front desk. You are more then welcome to..."

I didn't stay to listen; I had serious sweets to consume!

As I leapt into the limo, face sticky from candy canes, I considered other money-making opportunities. Cracking open yet another bottle of Cristal, I pondered, "Perhaps I'll sue speciest Manpower for keeping me down! That has to be the only reason I didn't get a position today! Is it a coincidence they call themselves MANPOWER? I think not!"

I swigged. I belched. I stuck my head out of the moon roof and flashed my multiple nipples. I chided pedestrians. I spilled champagne on the car seat. I vomited--a little bit--on the limo carpet. I tried to seduce the limo driver who, because of his rejection, must have been gay. I found $2.49 between the seats of the limo and stopped for some treats.

All in all, a good day.



[Editor's Note: In Manpower's defense, they are equal-opportunity employers. While they offered no official statement on this situation (because it's a piddly blog, fictitious account, and not worth their attention), I think it's safe to say that hiring cats is not within their business model. This is not meant to be a slap in the face of deserving felines. But, of course, Kukka takes it that way. Selfish, selfish little cat!]

14 comments:

Carmen said...

Ha! I asked at the pet food store if they were hiring cats, because Pooh needs to pay for his SPECIAL food. and they said they have a store cat, and all she does is lie around. Look to be a store cat!

Renee said...

ManPower wasn't able to find me a job either!
I found my own job and got better pay too and it was permanent. pshaw!

As for the change in the Limo...yay Kukka! (how much is the limo gonna set you back?)

Kukka-Maria said...

Carmen: Store cat? How demeaning! I hope you didn't actually suggest that to Pooh. I'm sure he'd be offended!

Renee: The limo and champagne? We'll have to wait until my Agent gets her credit card statement...

The Meezers said...

manpower could not find my mommy a job eifurr.
Kukka, didn't you learn from your failed employment at wal-mart that you are not suited to werk? You are more suited to sit on the couch and haf someone feed you treats all day. - Miles

Kukka-Maria said...

Oh, Miles...you are so right. I forgot about my stint at Wal-Mart. I'm just not cut out for work!

I just wish my Agent bought into that theory!

Anonymous said...

I hear ya Kukka, I must be overqualified too

Pink Chihuahua Princess said...

Man, Kukka-Maria. My girls should hang out with you more. I bet you could teach them a lot about living high on the hog--or the treats in this case. ;)

Cheysuli said...

Kukka:

"PAY PER POST" You get your agent to type for you, like always and you dictate, like always and you earn a little cash here and there.

Zeus said...

I can't believe your human pet turned this around on you as if it were your fault to begin with that you have super-sexy curves, rolls, and gadonka-donk out the tail. I think you might want to suggest to her that if she suspects she can't adjust to your lifestyle, then she might want to think of getting herself a second job. She knew what she was getting into when she found you.

George, Tipper, Max & Misty said...

$2.49!!! Well, your day was not completely wasted after all.

Anonymous said...

I agree with Zeus, but if you still need some moola to keep you in the treats, you could do one or both of these: 1. Become a consultant on all things super-sexy or 2. Pimp out Brach.

DaisyMae Maus

Anonymous said...

$2.49!!! You could have gone to the "dollar store" and purchased yourself TWO boxes of Little Debbie Snack Cakes! LOL Oh, and I was thinking "over-qualified" too ;)

Anonymous said...

Hey, Daisymae, what a grate idea. Zippy would prolly pay fur a date with Brach, she'z such a crank no boy kitty would volunteer fur dat. ::Speedy, I think you better get off the puter now:: She's so cranky *owe, owe, stop whaping me! Zippy, stop* ::told you, you dumb boy:: While the Princess beat the crap out of Speedy, let me just say, booo, hiss. Yer mom should do what ours does and work more hours.

brandywine said...

Does Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth have to work? (although in her defense...she's wafer thin) Maybe start a "Catpower" and be the go-to place for other humans to pimp out....er, find employment for their cats. Start a "Curves for cats", fully stocked with mice on meth (strictly for their cardio enhancment and quickness, mind you) Have your agent substitute your normal treats with small rice cakes...yeh. I'm not terribly fond of those myself, although when I had my walls blown full of them it saved me on my heating bill.So, in the end... Keep the womanly curves.