No, I wasn’t as tickled as the rest of the universe by that viral video of a New York rat writing a cover letter. It wasn’t natural. “Nerd Rat,” as nightly news dubbed him, is a freak.
Not to mention, we were going for the same job.
It took Twitter all of two hours to fully hash out the rat’s application, and Gizmodo posted the full transcript not long after. Here it is, in all its glory:
To whomever it may concern,
Hey, is this thing on? I’m thrilled to apply for the position of Social Media Consultant at New Amsterdam Media. I bring years of experience alongside the Metro Transit Authority, a desire to work in a fast-paced environment, and a massive love of the written word.
I’ll be honest with you guys—I don’t have any fancy degrees. I’ve never read Murakami. I’ve never read anything, actually. I don’t know how to read. I can’t speak English and I’ve bitten people.
But I also know people. Heck, I live with nine million of ‘em. I know what makes them tick, what makes them excited. I’ve seen them run late for work and build great skyscrapers and take out the trash.
I understand my upbringing was a bit unorthodox. I once spent three months under a Taco Bell oven. (It was the Recession.) I’ll only be able to work at night, and don’t bother issuing me a card to get into the building. I have my methods.
But these days, more than ever, we need to embrace our differences. They can only unite us. I know I can make New Amsterdam Media a better place, and help deliver that premo content to its followers in the process.
Please don’t hesitate to reach out for more info. I’m happy to answer any questions you might have, and have thousands of references.
All the best,
Mr. Rat
My heart sank when I read his cover letter. He was clever. His prose was self-effacing and measured. His crack about the Recession played. His point about the troubling present resonated. I proceeded to reread my own cover letter a billion times. In the final paragraph, I’d mentioned my “love of all things fish tacos.” What?!
That night, I took out the trash and spotted a rat eating Smartfood popcorn. His head was buried deep in the bag. I don’t know how, but I knew it was him. I thought about smashing the bag and his tiny little head with the trash lid. It would be so easy. I needed that job.
But I couldn’t do it. He’d earned it. I threw out my garbage and walked away.