In my serious voice: "Hello there. I am Zeus the cat."
In my gigolo voice: "Is heaven missing an angel? It must be if you're here."
In my I'm-trying-to-be-English-'cause-it's-super-sexy-to-be-English-in-America-voice: "Why hello-o-o-o there! I'm what they call a catrepreneur!"
But I digress...
I didn't worry about an outfit, and I hadn't stressed over making questions. I already had a perfect outfit - the one God saw fit to give me, and as for the questions, well,...my mind has a way of slipping into inappropriate places so it was probably best not to encourage it (see my notes on interviewing above). At the end of the day, I was the product. These silly businesses needed me to sell their goods. After all, everything looks better with a fat, orange, American Tabby ass sitting next to it.
Getting to the job fair was easy enough. I hopped a ride with some of the human pet's friends who were headed down to the hotel, and surprisingly, none of them thought anything strange of my presence. (I suppose they have read the blog one too many times and realized I do pretty much what I want when I want.)
We were one of the first few people there, but in no time, there was a long, winding line of people that stretched around the corner, down the hall, passing the reception desk, and rolling outside into the parking lot. All kidding aside, it was a sight that broke my kitty heart, and the reason it did so was because the so-called career "fair" was held in one, cramped room with only 13 companies in attendance. Three of those companies were The University of Phoenix, The Art Institute of Texas, and the Texas Auto Mechanic School.
With every person that joined the line, my head sunk a little bit deeper. Yes, friends, I was experiencing guilt. What was I thinking? If I actually got a job over one of these men or women, how would I feel about myself in the morning? I didn't need a job that badly, did I? With only ten actual companies there, was it really necessary for me to add to the stress those humans were experiencing?
Without even saying good-bye to the pet's friends, I sauntered down the line, weaving in and out of the attendees. I rubbed up against their legs and purred, cheering them on with my good vibes, because, as everyone knows, every human pet loves having his or her own personal cheerleader.
So, yes, there's not really much to tell in the end. I decided not to encourage outsourcing by leaving. No negotiations. No product lines to memorize. No proposals to prepare.
If refusing to get a job makes me noble, all the better. The ladies love noble.