From Punk Planet, 2005. I didn’t get the job.
There are a few things you will need to know before you take the postal examination:
1) The exam is being held at the City Of Industry Mail Processing Center this Wednesday, February 9, at 8:30 AM.
2) You can’t park in that spot sir, you’ll need to park across the street.
3) Because page three of the exam booklet you have been mailed reads Come to the test physically and mentally prepared. Get a good night’s sleep, you will have been plagued by insomnia and nightmares of having to wash dishes naked at the Dischord House while young people laugh at you. The dog that bothered Son Of Sam will have been bothering you as well, all night long, from your neighbor’s yard. The phone will have rung, once, at 12:55 PM. In the morning, your drive down CA-60 will have been made in the haze of the undead. When news comes on the radio—virtuous anti-Nazi boxer Max Schmeling, dead at 99, is hailed as “a good man”; Christo’s “The Gates” installation wows millions in New York; the L.A. hotel workers union seeks to boost their bargaining power—every story will point irrefutably towards your own artistic and moral insignificance. This can be corrected by getting a good score on your postal exam.
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