In the classic 1978 movie Animal House, Dean Vernon Wormer warned failing college student “Flounder” Dorfman (the recently deceased Stephen Furst) that “fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life.” This may have been good advice then, but not anymore.
Today a high school screw-up voted most likely to go through life fat, drunk and stupid could save his parents $60,000 or more a year for a top-drawer college and avoid being buried in student loan debt if he ever graduated from one of those elitist indoctrination money pits.
According to a recent National Association of Colleges and Employers survey, the starting salary of education majors is $34,891, humanities $46,065. Not much compensation for putting up with four to six years of pompous little men in grey beards, man buns and pursed-lipped, hollow-cheeked asexual-looking women who think everybody is there to learn Sanskrit and group hug in safe places with exchange students.
There are some very attractive alternatives for the fat, drunk and stupid crowd.
WestRock, a respected company with locations around the world, has been periodically running large “Help Wanted” ads in the Fernandina Beach News-Leader seeking employees to fill a variety of positions at its paper mill facility on our island.
They are not specifically recruiting fat, drunk and stupid employees, but from what I make of their ads, they trying to avoid a discrimination lawsuit from this group. The jobs pay an eye-popping $40,000 to $80,000 annually. To qualify for this generous paycheck a GED will do just fine.
These jobs also offer health, life, dental and eye insurance, a 401(K), an employee assistance program and paid holiday and vacations. What’s not to like?
So why waste four to six years squandering Mom and Dad’s dough, burying yourself in student loans, when you can live in a tropical paradise and earn twice as much as one of those poor saps with degrees? And you won’t have to sit thought lectures about what a fun-loving, wild and wacky guy Karl Marx was or listen to claptrap about how courageous Islamic terrorists are from professors who ridicule Christians for their faith and will encourage you to throw rocks at cops and shout down guest speakers. Nope, you can skip all that codswallop and get right to work earning more than some of the schmucks who teach and preach that nonsense.
You can’t show up at the interview knee-walking-drunk, acting stupid. Fat, sure. Being fat’s OK if you can handle what the company says are certain physical requirements such as “working rotating shifts—weekends/holidays, around heat, noise, work inside/outside, etc.” That doesn’t sound too challenging, so being fat shouldn’t disqualify you.
And the drunk part? Clearly you’re going to have to sober up long enough to get through the interview. Once you’ve nailed the job, you probably shouldn’t show up drunker than Cooter’s goat. But after the factory whistle blows, take that Friday paycheck down to the Palace Saloon and get loop-legged blotto on your rent money.
The stupid part may be the toughest if you want one of these low-hanging-fruit jobs.
The ads say the “basic requirements for successful applicants are … the mechanical, mathematical, and verbal skills to learn positions” and the ability to “…complete and submit an application online.” In other words, if you can count from one to 10 beginning with smallest number and ending with the largest and recognize at least 20 of the 26 letters in the alphabet, you could pull down $80 grand a year and a bucket of benefits. Won’t it be fun waving that paystub around your high school reunion, particularly in front of your snooty former classmates with feminist sociology and African-American studies degrees who are still trying to find work?
The ad also stipulates that successful applicants must have had at least one previous full or part time job somewhere, anywhere, doing anything and “play by the rules and work well with others.” In other words, no running with scissors or calling fellow employees names like “lard-bucket,” “wino” or “nitwit” despite their fat, drunk and stupid credentials.
And how exciting will it be at that class reunion when the head cheerleader, who wouldn’t give you the time of day in high school, starts playing footsie with you under the table?
Scott is a former newspaper reporter and retired corporate and agency public relations professional. He blogs at davescottblog.com; contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org.