A Job’s Eulogy

Here lies P.R. Job.

We never saw it coming; it was quite sudden. One day, it was fresh and new, full of promise. The next, it was dead. Like a newborn kitten with distemper, all rowdy and playful until suddenly it chokes and dies in your lap a week before Christmas. (But that’s another story, equally horrifying and slightly humorous in a twisted way–much like the rest of my life.)

The thing about P.R. is that it’s supposed to be centered around people. On what drives them, what makes them tick. But at its heart, P.R. was really just cold, hard math. Everyone thought P.R. liked them, until one day it would turn around and end them forever. Perception and politics. Numbers and graphs. There’s nothing wrong with it, except that it masquerades as something with a higher purpose.

I don’t know why I ever thought we’d be a good fit, but god help me, I did for a while there. Like any gullible young woman, I was seduced by the promise of a long, bright future with someone or something who cared, a place where I could be myself and be loved for who I truly was. But P.R. only pretended to delight in my offbeat sense of humor, feigning refreshment in my quirky directness.

Sigh… I’m rambling now. None of you came to hear my woes at the hands of P.R. Job, anyway, did you? You came to pay your respects.

So here’s what we all want to hear, and what I’ll always remember about P.R.

If you want to kill a P.R. Job, all it takes is one big dose of the truth. That sucker’s never coming back from that.

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