DRESSED TO IMPRESS II

Shortly after we walked into the Career Forum at the Gordon Track and Tennis Center, a short man in a grubby raincoat approached us. "Looking for a career?" he whispered, opening up his cost to display dozens of embossed business cards clipped to the frayed lining. A pale finger beckoned us to follow, and we did.

"Yeees, I've been around since Microsoft was just a gleam in Bill Gates's eye. But theengs have changed around here. Those Deesney guys look more sleeck than Salomon, and they have better beenefits, too. I heard the CIA has a booth, but nobody can find yet. But they're here alright--I saw two people deesappear into that wall over there!"

The little man grew more excited, trembling as he fondled the glossy pamphlets at McKinsey and Company. "You know, there's a vile rumor that they're planning a new booth for English and Classics majors. The Boston Public Works Department ees looking for highly educated saneetation engineers, heh heh!" He almost choked on his own phlegm as he laughed. Soon the wheezing subsided and he continued.

"But why work 70-hour weeks? You don't actually contreebute to the grand scheme (this word he emphasized) of things by making millions for other people. If I were you, I'd stay in school as long you can, cheeldren. Why, just look at me!" With that, he proudly lifted his lapel to uncover a small namecard that read, "MY NAME IS Igor, G23."

Suddenly, everything became clear; maybe it was the raincoat, maybe the creepy voice. We wanted to leave here immediately and make as much money as possible. We each signed up for five different interviews, all under different names, at the next investment banking booth we saw.