As we approach that time of year when you young people go forth, clutching your diplomas, to try to get the kind of job where you don't have to wear a comical grease-spattered fast-food outfit and have unintelligible conversations about "nuggets" over the drive-through intercom, I'd like to offer you three words of advice -- three words that, in today's competetive job market, mean the difference between success and failure; three words that can make you as the kind of young person most likely to get on the "fast track" to the top. Those three words, young graduates, are: "clean urine sample."
Yes, employee testing is the hot new business trend, hotter than corporate takeovers, hotter than the incorrect use of the word "parameters," hotter even than using cellular car phones to transmit crucial business messages ("Guess where I'm calling from! My car! I have a phone in my car! Ha ha! Doesn't it sound great?! Its in my car! A phone! Well, gotta go! I just hit a blind pedestrian!"). Just ask any top executive what qualities his corporation looks for, aboave all, in prospective employees today, and he'll answer: "We're looking for people who can pee with integrity into a jar. Also they should be able to pass a lie-detector test where we ask them a lot of questions, like did they ever steal or have sex with invertebrates."
American business long ago gave up on demanding that prospective employes be honest and hard-working. It has even stopped hoping for employes who are educated enough that they can tell the diference between the men's room and the women's room without having little pictures on the doors. No, what Amewrican business is willing to settle for today, young graduates, is people who can prove, on a given day, that they are not drug addict pervert theiving liars.
Why does American business care about this? White Collar Crime, that's why. It's an epidemic. In the past year alone, American businesses reported that lying, drug-crazed employes had stolen more that $100 billion worth of white collars. The figures for pastels are even more staggering. Now add to this the fact that the people reporting these figures are lying to get the insurance money, the insurance companies are lying about the claims so they can jack up their rates, and the newspapers who report these stories make everything up, and you begin to see just how serious the problem of corporate dishonesty has become. It's especially severe in banks, where roving gangs of armed tellers have taken to robbing depositors trapped inside those mazes that banks make out of velveteen ropes.
What this means, young graduates, is that if you want to get that good entry-level job, you have to know how to present an honest image to modern employers. Let's listen in on this actual transcript, showing how a well-prepared and poised young man we'll call "Ted" creates the right impression:
INTERVIEWER: What is your name?
TED: They call me "Ted," sir. And here's a sample of my urine!
INTERVIEWER: Thanks! (Holding it up to the light) Looks good to me, "Ted!" Darned Good! What about invertebrates?
TED: No Problem there, sir!
INTERVIEWER: We'll soon see about that, ha ha! (Calling to his secretary): Miss Johnson, send in a large cynical former police detective named "Lou" with facial scars and a shoulder holster to give Ted his polygraph test.
The polygraph test is absolutely nothing to worry about. First, four electrodes, each no bigger than a cough lozenge, are painlessly inserted about 3 1/2 inches into your brain. Next, the examiner asks you a series of standard of opening questions:
EXAMINER: So do you pick your nose?
YOU: Uh, no.
EXAMINER: (frowning): No?
YOU: Well, I mean, yes.
EXAMINER: (frowning): Yes?
YOU: Well, I mean, no.
EXAMINER: (frowning): No?
YOU: I mean, not for pleasure.
As he listens to your answers, the examiner studies a series of needles scratching out patterns in ink on moving graph paper. Sometimes they'll scratch out actual words such as: "Yeah, sure," "Like fudge" and "I bet." These needles are activated by electrical impulses, which are fed through wires, which are not attached to you at all. They are attached to the examiner, who, based on years of being a detective, can tell you're lying. He never liked you anyway.