Published on: 09 Jun 06:05
Hanna asks
I won a full scholarship to a summer program that would give me networking opportunities like nothing else. I was in a car accident in April and got a concussion, but I've fully recovered and have been discharged from physical and occupational therapy. But there's a health waiver that needs to be signed by a doctor for the festival, and no doctor will sign off without a concussion specialist signing first, and the concussion specialist has no availability before I have to go for training. I've been sobbing inconsolably for the past 12 hours or so and keep throwing up whatever I eat from anxiety. What do??
My answer
Okay so you can make an absolute killing here. Opportunity throbs everywhere. There’s a decent wodge of context to crank through first, so make a cuppa or something before we kick off.
Ready? Awesome. So your foremost goal here is to give everyone else a pretext for any residual concussion or injury you may still possess. But also, if you play your cards right, you could also harvest a ton of goodwill and money. Here’s how:
These networking-opportunity event festivals are fab. You meet all sorts. For those who don’t know: in practice, these events tend to be a vicious and snooty struggle within and between every attendee. Each publicly radiates benevolent honks concerning the virtuous virtues of Social Responsibility and Kindness and Empathy and Rosy-Cheeked Cherubs and Fluffy-Wuffy-Fucking-Puppies … whilst privately cocooning visceral lusting for lambos, cocaine, bee-hah-chiz (of whatever gender(s) each attendee possesses the mightiest thirsts), the mulching of orphans, the crushing of pandas, the re-lead-ing of gasoline, the immersion of breatharians in boiling tungsten, the tearing-limb-from-limb-by-’roided-up-peacock-teams of anyone unable to knot a Full Windsor, and, of the mightiest and paramount-est importance of all, the breathless worship of money-money-money-MUUUUH-NEY!
Some are more bare-faced and ruthless about this than others. They consider themselves keen and assertive and headstrong, and free of the loathsome scabby taint of ethic-itis.
It is this self-image you shall exploit and monetise.
Here’s what you do. Ahead of time, get hold of the networking event’s guest list. Skim and ID your event’s most rabid, sociopathic, foaming-at-the-mouth Ayn Rand supporters. If you’re unfamiliar with Ayn Rand, then first up, well done you, but second, she’s the head honcho of a movement called Objectivism. In theory, Objectivism is about enlightened self-interest, but in practice it champions passive-aggressive backstabbing and double-crossing every other consciousness in the entire goddamn universe.
Invite all into a Scheme whereby together you mooch and pool all their thousands of copies of Rand’s magnum opus Atlas Shrugged (each always owns hundreds, you know, it’s part of the uniform). Sneak these copies into both the personal effects and a random sampling of the less intimate orifices of all non-Randian event attendees, accompanied by a signed photo of Donald Trump erupting from Gandhi Alien-style, a bottle of champagne (ideally second-rate slop, don’t waste the good shit on these friggin’ proles), plus finally, an iPad Supermaxi displaying a bullet-list explaining to whom it may concern that Objectivism is ever so gosh-darn super and enlightened and all present should totally open their wallets and hearts and buy buy BUY.
Great, done. The event’s slimiest and most amoral assholes now consider you One Of Them, and a promising conduit to future moola. Next, identify the doctor appointed by the event-festival organisers to verify attendees’ health waivers. On the event’s first day, pre-dawn, sneak into her doctor-medikit-bag each of your twenty thousand copies of Atlas Shrugged, plus as much of that extra paraphernalia as will fit. Also add a few broadswords, some dynamite, several more panda corpses perhaps dressed in suspiciously well-tailored tuxedos, a tasteful medley of Dr. Josef Mengele costumes in a variety of sizes, some of your milder hentai backlog, basically anything that makes the doctor look like a complete bastard.
As you’re queuing with the other attendees outside, find some pretext to accidentally-on-purpose trip and knock open her medikit, revealing to all the decadent swag ocean sloshing within.
The rest is easy. Sneak several joke shop fake blood capsules into your cheeks, then scream “LOOK, CITIZENS! WE HAVE A LOATHSOME RANDIAN INTRUDER IN OUR MIDST! STAND BACK, SHE’S MIIIIINE!” Provoke a colossal screaming two-woman brouhaha. Swing a few clumsy punches at her. Whenever your opponent so much as coughs in your direction, scream in evident agony, clutch at your jaw, bite on a fake blood capsule, spit blood everywhere, and generally act like you’d copped a skullfuck from the bastard son of Mike Tyson and Ron Jeremy. Screech anew and fling yourself at her, cementing your image in the minds of your ever-swelling audience that you just don’t quit, and you’re a gal of steely pluck, and determination, and a force to be reckoned with.
Naturally this doctor has zero idea what the hell is happening and will put up as much actual real fight as a nappy in a smelter. Within seconds it’ll become pretty bloody obvious to all that she was never a Randian interloper and you’re a dingbat. But, if you’d screamed your warning loudly enough, regular event Security will have intervened and truncated her trouncing in seconds, understandably terrified that your ever-so-wholesome event-festival audience will rip this loathsome Randian intruder limb from limb. Seriously, I've witnessed this loads of times, it's like that scene from Lord Of The Rings where that pack of orcs kidnapping Merry and Pippin devour one of their own: 50ftcl.it/meats-back-on-the-menu-boys
If you’d played your cards right, then you’ll have:
- Overcome and obliterated this apparent fiendish Randian alien attempting to infect these luvverly-wuvverly networkers with her financial filth, and you'll thus win the esteem of all;
- The injuries sustained in your heroic defence of their morals now gives you a plausible pretext for any actual real concussion still lingering;
- You will likely still have convinced your prior mates, the actual real Randians, that you remain One Of Them (come on, they’re Randians, they’re used to getting hung-drawn-and-quartered at these event-festivals, it’s all in a day’s work to Dramatically Unmask a colleague and loudly amputate their negative PR to save the local Objectivist collective);
- Finally ... where there’s smoke, there’s fire! Chances are, there are a fair few other concussion victims aching to attend yet couldn't. You have now destroyed the only barrier to their attendance. They are now In Your Debt! Why not collect a fresh round of favours? Get them to form a team of crash test dummies or something. You know. Something low-impact.
Source: https://www.facebook.com/groups/393804108644865/po...
