

When, according to its job ad, an indie pet food company called something like Flopsies is looking for a “rock star” and a “unicorn” to revolutionise its social media presence, you know that the job market has become high on its own farts. Ill-defined franken-jobs, requiring everything from SEO expertise to video-editing skills (all for a salary of £27,000 and free protein bars that taste like hay) require cult-like dedication.
First, you must convince the fine people at Flopsies that it has been your dream since exiting your mother’s birth canal to sell pet food. You would cut off your own hands for the privilege, and quickly learn to write copy for them by smashing your face into a keyboard. You will convey this in a 400-word cover letter, written in your own blood. This cover letter will then be redirected into the ether by an AI filter, because you didn’t use the phrase “optimising algorithmic relevancy” in it. You will never hear from Flopsies again. You will start this process again and repeat it until you are seen fit for an interview in which you have a few minutes to convince a bot that you’re fit for purpose as both a worker and a human being.








Me_IRL every time I try to shit in a public restroom