Proudly you march towards the mill, the sun breaks, and your lips lift. Your immaculate resume was shipped in a month before. Never in the preceding weeks did you allow your inactivity to trouble or perturb you. You knew your plan to vanquish the Beuro-Bots was sound and sane. All shall fall into place! Up the steps and into your meeting, you are assaulted with a barrage of unexpected questions from the H.R. staff.
"So... what exactly is an Archaeological Philosophy Engineer?"
"Well," you respond confidently, "Basically I can see into the evidence left by past civilizations to create from my own sheer will of gullibility, a theory which sums up everything we don't know about our history. See, already in the past couple months I realized the Egyptians lived off of Scarabs, and our entire society is run by a web of demonic bureaucracy from the sixth dimension! I'm genius really!"
"Ooooookay.... moving on to the next question.... what is your current mode of employment?"
"Barrista!" You exclaim with ecstatic pride.
"Um.... and how would serving coffee be of assistance to you toiling in our dungeon, I mean paper mill."
"Well... madames et miss-yewers, being of service to the fine people of this Northern environs has taught me the importance of courtesy and exquisite customer service".
The entire room erupts in riotous laughter. "Seriously! Oh god! Seriously! No! You have to be kidding me! Have you ever MET a paper maker before! COME ON! Oh man... ya.... ok.... this kid needs to get his hands dirty first... have some of that relentless optimism beat out of his head. Go pump gas for a year or two, then try again kid! Christ! HAHAHA!"
The laughter doesn't make you feel particularly happy or confident. Your march out the front doors lead to a further sense of shame and isolation. How are you supposed to find the Legal Mage now? Does it even matter? Maybe you should stick to what you are best at. You pass by the local library and take out a stack of books on arcane medieval magic and the paper making process and return to your dungeon to dine on pizza pockets and digest the knowledge of your fore-fathers. Someday you will rise out of your basement dwelling and conquer that job interview.... if you can still fit out the front door.....