I saw a job on Indeed.com for Dispensary Cannabis Store Manager, presented by Regis HR Group in Miami, FL. Here is my cover letter:
Hello. I was born to do this job. I mean, what a WONDERFUL reason to wake up every morning. The only job better than this on the scale of awesome jobs might, only just possibly, be subject of a science experiment in which my dopamine is measured after spending an entire day kissing Corgi puppies.
Plus, I would NEVER over-indulge in your store product. I haven’t smoked pot since the late 70’s, and between you and me I don’t think it was even really pot. It was just a bag sticks and seeds my friends and I paid five bucks for, and none of us knew how to roll a joint. Our joint was as tight and compact as a plastic sack of circus peanuts. When I took a hit I might as well have been sucking fumes from a burning sewage pipe clogged with cat crap. I didn’t get high but pretended I did by staring blankly, laughing a lot and eating an entire bag of Nicaraguan pig rinds — pretty much my normal behavior so I will FIT RIGHT IN at your cannabis dispensary!
I see there are certain medical licenses you require, such as certifications in being a physician’s assistant, RN or pharmacist, but I was a flight attendant for 20 years, during which time I completed annual recertification training in such areas as Bringing People Back from the Dead (sometimes referred to as CPR), Household Heart Surgery (i.e. defibrillator-use know-how), Intense Anger-Issue Psychotherapy (terrorism negotiation), Being an Orderly to the Insane (or as we in the industry call them, “passengers”), High-Level Defense Security Maneuvers (tackling drunks before they break into the cockpit) and Heroism (heroism). Surely these skills fill those requirements.
I’m also very good at managing things, mainly because I won’t be high, and that in itself is mainly because I know that since the last time I smoked pot there has been a team of international scientists perfecting cannabis production to the point where just being in the same room with it will bake your brain. So, with that in mind, I expect my work uniform to be a scuba suit, and I’m fine with that.
I’m also good at working cash registers, doing deep knee bends, saving albino baby rhinos, speaking Spanish, dodging bullets, amateur ventriloquism and bee keeping (also amateur). I’m happy to relocate, seeing as I now live in the inner city of Atlanta, where, according to the Georgia sex-offender registry, my house is currently surrounded by child-molesting masturbaters. Please hire me.