“Studies have shown that Facebook can be a useful hiring tool. Just a five- to 10-minute perusal of a user’s profile can net more information than a basic personality test. It’s no wonder employers head to the site to check out prospective hires.
“But one problem remains: Many users are now going private, cutting off their profiles from outside viewers. As a result, a new trend has emerged. Employers are reportedly now asking job applicants for Facebook passwords.”
Makes me glad I’m already employed.
Interviewer: I’m looking through your photo albums. Have you ever gone “streaking?”
Interviewer: Were you alone?
Me: I was not.
Interviewer: Were you with more than one other person?
Me: I was.
Interviewer: And, was this group comprised of other males?
Interviewer: Uh, was there any, um, physical contact during this incident?
Me: A little – but, of course, eventually they outran me.
Interviewer: I see. And, was law enforcement involved?
Me: Not formally.
Interviewer: OK. So, no arrests?
Me: No convictions.
Interviewer: So, tell me about this picture of you and all your friends holding guns.
Me: That was unrelated to the streaking incident.
Interviewer: I’d hoped so. Still, the image makes me wonder what you were up to. It doesn’t appear that you were dressed to go hunting, though you were out in the woods.
Me: We were shooting a microwave oven.
Me: I’m not real sure. Someone brought it over and said we needed to shoot it. I assumed he thought it had a demon or something.
Interviewer: This didn’t seem odd to you?
Me: Not really. Look, if I’ve learned anything in life, it’s when someone says an inanimate object needs to be shot, you shoot it.
Interviewer: You majored in philosophy in college?
Me: I did.
Interviewer: I see. Well, I’m looking through these vacation photos now, I think. It seems you’re on a cruise.
Me: Yes, we went on one last year. I won it, through a writing contest with Creative Loafing.
Interviewer: Congratulations. But, tell me about these pictures of the naked man in the hot tub.
Me: Oh, awesome! Have you got to the “Caribbean Jesus” picture yet?
Interviewer: Not yet… Oh, there it is.
Me: That was great! We cleared the whole deck of the ship!
Interviewer: I’m sure you did. You say you won this trip through a writing contest?
Me: Yeah. It was about a road trip that Caribbean Jesus and I took a few years back. I’m surprised I won – because of the word count limit, I wasn’t even able to talk about the 6-foot-tall lesbian who lived in the closet of the old, dilapidated townhouse where we stayed in Savannah, or about the tiny Asian girl who had the lease and was terrified I would use her toothbrush.
Interviewer: How unfortunate.
Me: I know, right?
Interviewer: Well, sir, thank you for your time. I’m sure we’ll be in touch.
Me: Oh, no – thank you!
Joey, naked, at the top of my driveway: Ah, man, there’s no traffic on Tony’s road!
Cameron, also naked at the top of my driveway: To Douglas Boulevard! <Cameron then disappears into the night.>