It Strikes Me Funny: The perfect job for me?

I visited City Hall after lunch today with a form verifying the loss of my passport.

I had to see the Commissioner of Oaths, get the form stamped with the official ‘Commissioner of Oaths’ Stamp’ and pay $33 before applying for a new passport.

I was in and out in two minutes.

“Do you verify that what you have written on the form is true?” I was asked.

“I so solemnly swear,” I said.

Stampity-stamp.

“That’ll be 33 smackers, please,” said the Commissioner, one arm held high with official C of O stamp pointing toward the photograph of a young, shiny-faced Queen of England hanging on an adjacent wall, the other pointing toward my back pocket and wallet.

I paid. Job done.

While walking back to my car I thought, I could do that job.

“Do you swear? Louder,” I’d say. “Say it like you mean it. Good girl. (Stampity-stamp.) Pay up. Next!”


["Come on. Say it like your life depended on it": photo GH]

I could even give more value for the money as Commissioner of Oats.

“Here’s an oatmeal recipe. Eat if every day. Be healthy, you’ll live longer. Next!”

I could give even more value by being Commissioners of Oafs at the same time. Provide more bang for the buck.

“Did you have oatmeal today? Good man. Watch your step, the floors are slippery, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Next!!”

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For something more serious, please read Catch-44, the progress trap, and the greedy monkey PT 1 and PT 2.

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