No worries – you aren’t getting the job anyway
The Queensland, Australia tourism board is offering to plant one lucky applicant on an island in the Great Barrier Reef chain for six months, and pay a cool $105,000 for doing so. Your general job description is to lay around, swim, dive, etc., and you’ll probably have a satellite up/down link so you can blog about it too.
Suspiciously missing from the job description is much mention of the fly fishing opportunities, or whether there is going to be a closet full of shiny new graphite and titanium waiting for you when you get there. I’m gonna tell you the bad news before the really bad news – there aren’t too many of these swimming around, but if you have a pile of 13-15 weights I think there are still a few black marlin records to be broken. Now for the really bad news (for you, at least)…
Why You Need Not Apply
The answer to the above is simple – you’re swimming with the crocs (i.e. you won’t get the job). Reason? I am the most qualified!
First and foremost, I’m much better looking than you are. If that isn’t enough, I grew up in a tropical locale so I’m intimately familiar with the concept of warm ocean breezes, sand between my toes, as well as how to pass off pink umbrellas in my pints. On that note, I can drink more beer than you without falling down, a skill that was refined where else….ta da….in Australia!
Yep – I once lived there, and I’ve still got the old work visa to prove it. The government literally begged me to stay, including bribing me with a lifetime supply of Coopers Ale (little did they know XXXX was my favorite…hear that Queensland…wink wink). Parliament wanted to add another holiday to the national schedule, Michael Gracie Day, which was to precede both Christmas and Boxing Day. I was asked to captain the favored boat on the Sydney to Hobart race, even though I don’t know how to sail. The powers that be gave me an honorary Advanced Open Water Diver certification and then sent me to the Coral Sea on the QE II. I climbed Uluru (translation for losers: Ayers Rock) in thirty minutes flat, babysat at the local wombat rescue shelter, and wrestled reptilian monsters on Lizard Island. Hell…my best friends in the US are fricken Australians. They may not admit it, but they missed me so much they followed me back here – I might as well exchange passports now.
I know precisely what ‘flat out like a lizard drinking’ means and you don’t – a friendly reminder to you to call the unemployment office because this gig is mine.
Out with the old office view
In with the new
And did I mention the bonefish are hard to come by?
Editor’s note: that whole there’s no fly fishing to be had meme is a ruse – I’m just trying to discourage you because the job application server is running slow. But you have to admit…I’m a walking talking travel agency ad, eh?