Goldstein Demchak Baller Borgen & Dardarian

A little over a year ago, my life was falling to pieces, and quite comically I might add. I was living in a former peanut factory in West Oakland with seven other miscreants, all of whom subsisted off canned curry and orange fanta and stayed up nearly till dawn every night building amplifiers out of old car parts or else disassembling hellicopotor engines and turning them into futurist bird baths. There was neither windows or electrical outlets in my bedroom. We called ourselves artists, myself included. All the mirrors were cracked and there was something from the planet Neptune living in our refrigerator. Our compost pile alone would often recite from the Bhagavad Gita. I thought I was gonna pull a Jack Nicholson from The Shining if I didn’t gain some reprieve from the situation. At about the same time I moved in my relationship ended, I got a flat tire on my bike one day and I noticed my first grey hairs. That was the final straw. So one day I said to myself: I NEED A NEW JOB!
Lo and behold, a few weeks later after shopping my resume around on the «interweb», the good people at Goldstein Demchak called me and offered me the generous position of Royal Vice Prime Minister of the Mail Room. The President Prime Minister, Lord Shawn, turned out to be the most kingly and kindly of men and we got along smashingly the first time we assembled a brief together.
Many months of plenitude and good humor passed. I realized without a doubt that ours was the most Premier and Stellar Mail Room in all the Principalities of the Fair and Noble Bay Area. Through our vigor and attention to detail we sent out commanding process to all our Enemies, forcing them to settle time and again, often beguiling them into submission through wily uses of semi-​colons and CC’s. Through it all I gained an admiration for the lawyers at the firm as well, who were also in agreement that the Goldstein Mail Room was «far and away, by god, a model of force and precision to be reckoned with, by Lord Zeus himself.»
I am proud to say that I am still, a year later, Royal Vice Admiral Prime Minister of Her Firm’s Magisterial Mail Room and that my life, once in shambles, is now pretty damn zippy and I no longer have a compost loaf as a flatmate.