Resume Rifle

Walking up to the enormous office megacomplex, you unsling the CV-47000 strapped to one shoulder. Loading a cartridge into the breach, you slap the weapon shut with a satisfying "click". The unit balanced on your shoulder, you take aim and pull the trigger. A burst of compressed air whips through a release valve, launching the payload upward at a 45 degree angle. The shouts of alarm from onlookers turn to open-jawed gapes as the projectile ablates throughout its arc, shedding the resumes, CV's, and cover letters stapled together which make it up. A parabola of papers flutters to the ground, walked on and noticed by thousands of potential employers.

But your work is not done. Many of these people will take the back entrance. The CEO of the company will leave in his helicopter from the roof. There are probably hundreds of people who didn't witness your insane stunt. With the grim knowledge that this is unacceptable, you slap a clip containing a ream of off-white manila into the bottom of the weapon, pull back the laser printer head, (The CV-47000 fires from an open bolt), and set the fire selector to full auto. Storming through the door, you blind the security guard with a windstorm of rapidly printed summaries of your professional accomplishments. Sprinting towards the elevator, you slide in just before the door closes and the guard regains his balance.

From your research earlier, you happen to know that all of the department heads have their offices located on the 19th floor, for convenience of conference. Pushing "19", you clip the scope to the top of the weapon, and set it to "single fire". When you arrive at floor 19, however, something is amiss. The hallway is dark, laser sensors criss-cross it (visible, movie-type sensors that wave back and forth), and an ominous fog has risen. If you leave the elevator, they will surely catch you! Not to worry. You calmly use the laser sight to take aim at the name emblazoned on each door, and pull the trigger. Advanced optics coupled with a powerful processor and OCR software instantly "read" the name on the door, and print it in the "salutation" section of the cover letter, after which the gun rolls the cover letter and resume around a tack and fires it at high velocity into the wooden door. On impact, the notice rolls open invitingly. After calmly sniping each and every doorway, you slowly pull your foot from the elevator doors, and push the button for the roof.

Your heart beats faster, this is the moment you have been preparing for ever since you signed up for ninja business training. The CEO of this company is a notorious paranoid recluse. He lives and works in a three-story victorian mansion that has been airlifted to the roof and mounted to stilts. The acre of roof-space surrounding it is fenced off jungle containing a pair of tigers trained to appreciate the game living within, but really enjoy the taste of human flesh. The walls are heavily soundproofed against the constant helicopter traffic from the other CEO's, the windows 6 inch thick bulletproof glass. You know no avalanche of paper, no swarm of carefully targeted resumes will penetrate his awesomely isolated attention.

Nevertheless, you step out onto the roof, the confidence returning as you actually see your objective. Moving quickly, you set up the weapon on a tripod, sighting in on the CEO's bedroom window from a good half mile away. You flip the fire-select to "long-range", and aim through the scope as a loud hum begins to emanate from the instrument and it begins to heat up ominously. Three red dots appear on the ceiling of the CEO's bedroom, widely separated. With some twiddling of the controls, the dots become one just as the weapon chimes softly. The rifle locked and loaded, you push the remote shutter release, and the aluminum covering the aperture irises open. Thanks to precision swiss optics, your resume is reproduced in full color on the exec's white ceiling, corrected for angle to appear undistorted. Animations pop and swirl as your name appears again and again, surrounded by glowing references to your great intelligence, experience, and trustworthiness.

You watch through the scope until the bearded, wizened face of the powerful madman appears at the window, then pack up your tools and dive off the side of the roof, your mission accomplished. Your parachute opens 100 feet from the ground, and you float to a landing. You pull the release to free the black parachute and sprint to your motorcycle, roaring away into the night, never to be seen again. At least until the interview.