Classrooms Around Campus, All Day Saturday

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

It was Saturday, and that meant Career Day! Unbeknownst to all the students who had taken the career placement test, Fandom had apparently conspired to place them all in workshops that didn't quite fit the answers they gave for their tests. The island was tricky that way. Not to mention that the workshops that the island had planned were somewhat different from the workshops an ordinary school might offer on Career Day. As in quite a lot different.

So the classrooms all around the school were filled with visitors from off-island and island alike, all of whom had been led to believe that they would be teaching eager-minded groups of students, excited to learn about their prospective careers. This assumption was not necessarily accurate.

[[up early early early for timezones! wait for the OCD or puppies will die. the puppies are safe now.]]

Comments

Workshops!

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

For learning! Or sulking. Wait for the teachers to ping first!

The Guild of Calamitous Intent: Hate You Can Trust

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Dr. Girlfriend!

Re: The Guild of Calamitous Intent: Hate You Can Trust

[dr-manly-voice.livejournal.com]

The woman standing in front of the classroom bore a striking resemblance to the late Jackie Onassis, with her pink pillbox hat and matching suit. And when she opened her mouth to speak, she sounded like a chain-smoking construction worker named Vinnie.

That was just her voice. The students should go with it.

"Alright, so, welcome to your workshop," she rumbled. "I'm Dr. Girlfriend," because she hadn't picked a new name yet, and didn't feel like being Queen Etherea again, no matter what Phantom Limb said, "but you can call me Sheila. I'm here on behalf of the Guild of Calamitous Intent. Some of you might be thinking, hey, why can't I just be a supervillain on my own? I don't need a Guild. It's understandable. I'm here to tell you why you're wrong."

It hadn't occurred to Sheila that some of the students might be in the wrong classroom, or weren't interested in careers in supervillainy. If they wanted to talk to the Guild, that was evidence enough for her.

"Costumed menacing is much harder than it looks from the outside. You've chosen a target for your hatred. Great! So what if he'd rather fire-bomb your secret base than play cat-and-mouse with you? What if you have a legitimate medical emergency, and he throws grenades into the hospital? What if he sends an army to kill the extended members of your family, just to retaliate for that harmless little poison you slipped into his water supply? And worst of all, what if someone else has already called dibbs on your arch-nemesis?"

Sheila flipped a hand. "That's where the Guild can help. Arching has rules. Of course you're allowed to try to kill each other, but that's no reason not to be civilized about it. You file the right paperwork and the arch in question is all yours. You observe treaties and exemptions, and you know that your arch will do the same. Because if they don't, the full weight of the Guild is gonna rain down on them like some kinda apocalyptic movie with bad special effects."

"The Guild is there to help. If you can't figure out a theme, there are assistants who'll show you some lovely alternatives." Most of which were a touch skanky, in her opinion, but that was besides the point. "If you're having trouble with your Number Two, maybe you can request a new one. The Guild may be a haven of villainy, where backstabbing and murderous coups are all in a day's work, but there's strength in numbers, and there's no reason we all can't get along."

Sheila smiled at the young minds before her. "Plus there's full health and partial dental, and some lovely life insurance packages for your henchmen. Any questions?"

The Future of Technology

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Basil Sandhurst!

Re: The Future of Technology

[notbeekeepers.livejournal.com]

The set up for the A.I.M. room had a distinct bee hive quality to the aesthetics. Which would probably make anyone aware of them laugh so, so much.

Oh, A.I.M.

"Advanced Idea Mechanics, or A.I.M. as its more commonly know, is an international think tank that had been dedicated to the betterment of mankind since the end of the second world war," Basil Sandhurst informed his little group. Not that he believed many of them would garner the attention of A.I.M, mind.

And somewhere back in his version of New York, Nick Fury was rolling his one eye at the altruistic description of the company.

"We only recruit the brightest of minds in the fields of science and business to work for us in order to ensure excellence continues at the level we set for our employees," Basil continued creepily. "Anyone with serious interests in these fields are more than welcome to take a handwavey brochure about the employment opportunities available."

Greendale: A Teaching Opportunity for You and Me!

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Dean Pelton!

Re: Greendale: A Teaching Opportunity for You and Me!

[awakensomething.livejournal.com]

There were Greendale Community College videos (http://www.greendalecommunitycollege.com/about/) playing on a loop the whole time behind the Dean and more than enough fliers (http://i54.tinypic.com/2qb8vts.jpg) extolling the virtues of the school. Most of which had been written back in the early 90s and only changed slightly, so its best to ignore the gratuitous use of 'radical' in them.

At the end of one of the many video loops, Dean Pelton stepped forward, clapping enthusiastically. "Lets hear it for Greendale! Yeah!" Then added, "At an appropriate volume for the space we're in. No need to get into the legal ramifications."

He adjusted his glasses, pacing in front of the group. Public speaking was a skill of his, after all. "Now I'm sure some of you have given a thought or two toward a teaching career in the future. After you've gotten your degrees, of course. Fool me twice, shame on me." Chang. "The lure of shaping young minds, guiding them in a strictly platonic manner toward their futures like the teachers at this fine establishment guided you."

Another bit of pacing just to keep them on their toes.

"I know what people think when they hear 'community college'," he said doing the finger quotes. "That its where teachers who can't cut it at a traditional school go. Where the biggest perk you get is the title 'professor'. Well, they'd be wrong . There is also a choice parking space and an office. The office would be shared with one other teacher, of course. But you can decorate one half of it however you like!"

Dean Pelton nodded at them encouragingly. Because those were some pretty nice perks.

"But don't just take my word for the wonderful atmosphere of the campus," he said, waving his hand over toward another booth. "Just ask one of our happy students, Mr. Jeff Winger!"

There was a man sitting in the crowd wearing a pair of sunglasses. Not that he needed them; they just looked cool. "Greendale sucks," said Jeff. "It sucks so bad, we're actually resorting to blackmail to pimp it out to the world. Run far, far away, children. If your choice is between Greendale and Hell, I'd advise you to buy some 100+ sunscreen and a decent pair of shorts, because Greendale is a toilet."

"Oh. Oh, that's just rude. He's just making a joke, kids."

Such a kidder our Jeff Winger.

"If you have any further questions, we have plenty of fliers and pencils for you!" A beat. "One pencil per student, please."

How To Be A Sleazy Ad Man

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Brian Kinney! Ooh, that's me.

Re: How To Be A Sleazy Ad Man

[fuckingnotlove.livejournal.com]

Brian Kinney was ballsy. He walked – no, more like strutted – into the classroom at his own leisurely pace, decked out in a Prada suit that fit him like nobody’s business. Behind him came Cynthia, his assistant, who did not look very pleased to be carrying all those boards with her. With a little bit of a scowl in Brian’s direction, she started to set them up in the front of the room. They were all copies of some of Brian’s ads, and each and every one of them featured a surprisingly attractive model in extremely limited clothing.

It was kind of his shtick.

“Sex,” he said, once all the posters were up and Cynthia was standing off in a corner of the room. “It sells. It’s how you get attention, attention’s how you get business, and business is how you get money. It’s all about sex.”

Someone might be inclined to assume that this speech came from the fact that he was talking to teenagers. That someone would be wrong. This was just how he did business.

“People ask me how I get Clio awards and pay for hardwood floors. The answer’s simple. It’s sex.”

And in case anyone was wondering, no, not in that way. Though he probably could. He was certainly attractive enough.

“Let me get a show of hands,” he continued, ignoring Cynthia’s smug little look in the back of the room. He turned one of his boards around to reveal the back side, which was… significantly less appealling (http://lh6.ggpht.com/_EGvCkcfIfQo/R5EoUJtkA4I/AAAAAAAADAA/pPwaFH7CS7w/j0399838.jpg). By his standards, of course. “How many of you like this ad?” he asked, obviously expecting zero hands in the air. Without waiting for a response, he turned it back around to its original display. “Now, how about this (http://files.coloribus.com/files/adsarchive/part_1058/10580305/file/viagra-jardim-small-88347.jpg) ad?” He paused. “You may be surprised to know that these are actually for the same product. Yeah. Viagra. Three guesses which one sold more.”

He let that sink in.

“I want you brainstorming,” he said briskly after a moment. “Cynthia’s passing out a list of possible subjects you could have. Whatever you get, you design an ad for that product and then come show me and I’ll give you a grade.”

He pulled out the desk chair and took a seat, lounging comfortably. “Come see me if you have any questions.”

Yup. That was it.

H.A.T.E for Fun and Profit

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Dirk Anger!

Re: H.A.T.E for Fun and Profit

[hatelovesme.livejournal.com]

Dirk Anger stood in full uniform in front of the classroom, LLizard Zoom (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:One_Crazy_MammaJamma.jpg) stick clenched between his teeth.

When it came time, he shut the classroom door, and he locked it.

"There. Now we'll have some peace and quiet. You're here because you want to know about HATE. Well let me tell you something, and that is that I know everything there is to know about hate. I am General Dirk Anger, director of the Highest Anti-Terrorism Effort. I eat lightning for breakfast, and by the middle of the day I am clenching and straining to crap thunder, because lightning does not provide enough fiber for one's diet!"

He adjusted his little techno-monocle and continued.

"H.A.T.E. is the best thing that ever happened to America. We stop the terrorists so that little Johnny can sleep soundly in his bed, knowing that H.A.T.E. is the scariest, most powerful organization on the planet. Once you learn to stop worrying and love the H.A.T.E, everything is just fine."

He leaned in to get a good luck at his audience. "Now you're wondering 'what's the pay like?' 'what are the benefits of joining H.A.T.E.?' 'What can I offer H.A.T.E.?'" He cleared his throat. "Well the answers are crap, crap, and your crappy fleshy bodies, with your eyes and your ears. H.A.T.E. always needs nerds to watch the surveillance equipment. Sexy operatives for undercover operations. Fat, squishy people to absorb bullets on the front lines. Smart, clever people to stand behind the squishy ones when the fights break out!"

He slammed his fist against a desk. "And now you're wondering why anyone would sign up for it. Well I'll tell you why. Because H.A.T.E. has the best drugs. Special life-extending drugs. So when you love H.A.T.E., H.A.T.E. loves you, and you get to live longer. Unless you get yourself killed. Also, we don't require a college degree, don't run a background check, and we pay better than your local burger joint."

"And you get to fight terrorists with the greatest weapons ever devised, that's a perk too. Now who's got the scrotal integrity to pre-enlist today, hmmm? I won't unlock the door until somebody signs up!"

Which would be only be a good threat if the door didn't automatically unlock from the inside. Which it did. So anyone was free to flee whenever they felt the need.

Unemployment: Jobless and Fabulous!

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Jack McFarland! Ooh, that's me too.

Re: Unemployment: Jobless and Fabulous!

[im-justjack.livejournal.com]

The first thing to know about Jack McFarland was that he was thoroughly and completely incompetent.

“Good morrow, class,” he announced in his very best pretentious voice as students started filing into the room. Without a hint of sarcasm or irony, he declared, “Welcome to my highly prestigious workshop, where I will be teaching the field, the craft, the majestic art – of acting.”

His phone vibrated and began blaring Jack’s all-time favorite Cher song. Loudly. “Ooh, hold on a sec,” he chirped as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked his texts. Then he blushed a tiny bit and looked up.

“Ah! Change of plans, students,” he said with a faint trace of a very, very bad British accent that hadn’t been there before. Oh, Jack. “It appears that instead of teaching you the beautiful craft of the theater, I will instead be instructing you in my other profession: unemployment.”

Don’t ask.

Well, that threw a wrench into his show-off-your-abs exercise that he’d had planned. Although really, that didn’t have much to do with acting either. Anyway, Jack knew more about being unemployed than just about anyone else, so.

“The first thing one must accomplish in order to be successfully unemployed,” Jack began, “is to find a wealthy friend. The wealthier, the better, children. Or perhaps you yourself are wealthy! In that case, it is your burden to pay it forward, if you will. Find a less privileged friend and sponsor him in his unemployment! It’s all about generosity, dear students.”

“Your activity for today is simple,” he announced. “Divide into pairs – one of you will be fortunate enough to work with me – and take turns sweet-talking one another out of money! But first, consider what you need the money for. I personally use my wealthy friend for pursuits such as new tracksuits from Barney’s, or gym membership payments, or my rent.” He paused, then giggled. “Actually, my mom pays that one.”

“So!” Jack clapped his hands together. “Partner off! You may feel free to approach me with any questions or concerns you may have.” He glanced at some of the male students, then added, “Especially you.”

He was so, so ethical.

Fur, Feathers, and Scales: Why YOU Want To Be A Pet Detective

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Ace Ventura!

Re: Fur, Feathers, and Scales: Why YOU Want To Be A Pet Detective

[naturecalled.livejournal.com]

It was probably not every day that the students of Fandom High were treated to a career day presentation by a man in a loud Hawaiian shirt who had a tendency to bend over and talk with his butt.

Hopefully.

And yet, there he was, with a capuchin monkey perched on his shoulder, stuffing sunflower seeds into his mouth by the handful and chewing them into a gooey pulp before spitting the mushed-up remains onto the desk in big, sticky globs. They were globs that even a few of the squirrels, who he had bribed into keeping his company for the duration of the presentation, really wanted nothing to do with.

The broad assortment of other creatures that were mulling about, from flamingos, to ducks, to a breed of deer with a rare variation in pigmentation that served as a perfect example of divergent evolution in a segregated environment that would have made Darwin give up on finches forever, seemed to be more or less unbothered by the antics of the loud man in the equally loud clothing with the awesome hair who had gathered them here today.

"Well, well, well," Ace began, looking at the students with a raised eyebrow. "It would seem that these homo sapiens of the adolescent persuasion are vying for my job."

Which was kind of the point, Ace.

"Before I get really started, I have to stress that being a pet detective is not for everyone. It takes a sharp mind, a gentle touch, a worldview that stresses that all creatures are... equal." There was a brief pause while he wrestled back the desire to state that somehow, bats were exempt from all-creature equality, because that was absolutely unfair and a horrible thing for an enlightened individual such as himself to be saying, even if they were ugly and creepy and virtual bastions of disease and parasites and other nasty-- Anyhow. "To be able to solve mysteries that might arise regarding animals, one must first be unafraid to think like an animal, and like a man." Ace drew in a deep, meaningful breath before he levelled the students with a look that was intended to convey just how important, and how challenging, such a thing could be.

"You need to be more aware of your surroundings than the other cops, who will make a point to go out of their way to... mock, to step on your tiny, six-legged friends in the animal kingdom while calling it a homicide... to try to remove you from your case while repeatedly messing. Up. The. Evidence!" There was another pause there, and then Spike, the monkey on his shoulder, reached out and gave Ace a much-needed pat on the head and a handkerchief, which Ace blew his nose into for a good two minutes. Noisily. "Thank you, Spike."

Ace took a deep breath to compose himself before pressing on.

"You need to be a step ahead of everybody, to keep them guessing, to see their motivations while still being aware of the needs and feelings of the missing individual that is relying on you-- YOU, kids, to make certain that they find their way home, safe and sound. To make certain that the inhumane human scum that's put them through their terrifying ordeal has been brought to only the most fitting sort of justice imaginable. And, of course, to make certain that you get paid, because a love of animals alone will unfortunately never pay rent or put kibble in the bowl at the end of the day."

Fiber. Ace needed that kibble in order to stay regular, damn it.

Mercing and You: Why The Mercenary Business Is Not For Suckers

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Taskmaster!

Re: Mercing and You: Why The Mercenary Business Is Not For Suckers

[mrt-master.livejournal.com]

Stepping up here was a guy in heavy armor with a face mask that made it impossible to tell who he was.

Much like the other advocate of hired slaughter at this career fair. Call it a thing, mmkay?

Not that Taskmaster was in the best of moods to begin with. He wouldn't be here if Sandi hadn't made him, after all. (Though at least Hayden was at present too whatever to attend.) "Yeah, so I'm not here to tell you how awesome it is to be a merc," he said. "Because in the merc business, we're all badasses, or we're dead. And every year, a whole bunch of kids like you show up thinking they walk the walk and get themselves shot. Sometimes ruining perfectly good jobs."

He was a cheerful, helpful guy like that.

"Used to run a school to help kids like you work out the merc biz. Most of them didn't make it. If you want to pick up good jobs, run like a merc, you got to have something. I don't care if you can grow swords out of your neck or you have a computer for a brain, in today's merc market, you're not going to cut it just by being able to run a couple extra laps at the gym and shoot a gun."

But hey, at least there weren't too many kids showing up. Not a lot of competition coming out of this end of the pool. Good to know. "So rule number one: don't be a pansy. Rule number two: know your shit. Rule number three: don't take animal jobs. This idiot Hayden--" His frenemy or UST partner or whatever shit Sandi liked to call them, he didn't want to think about, "--thought he'd get a head start in the biz by taking an animal collection job. Got no cash, just a run-down theme park." Snicker. "And you know what he got hired to do from there on in? Underwear retrieval. That kind of bull."

Well, and a few decent jobs, but whatever, he could slander Hayden if he wanted to. "Finally, rule number four, don't piss off the mob." He jabbed his thumb at the screen behind him, showing some... Well. (http://pics.livejournal.com/spring_lost/pic/0004y41g) Footage. "You wind up having to put up with shit like this, and nobody likes that. Okay, that's all I got. No fucking flyers, no workshops, whatever. Got questions?"

How To Become A Lawyer And Not Get Caught

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Jeff Winger!

Re: How To Become A Lawyer And Not Get Caught

[dollop-of-irony.livejournal.com]

Jeff was wearing a suit just this side of incredibly expensive, and there was a pair of incredibly cool aviator sunglasses balancing on his nose. "Hello, everyone, and welcome to this workshop, which is not at all the product of blackmail."

Pelton was going to pay when this was over.

"Now, you may ask, why 'How to Become a Lawyer and Not Get Caught'. Is getting caught a legitimate risk of becoming a lawyer? Is being a lawyer illegal, and if so, why? Or is becoming a lawyer something resembling a terrorist bootcamp in Pakistan, and are you going to get terribly hurt trying, and arrested for treason?"

Why, yes, he was pulling this out of his ass right where he stood. What, like he was going to bother preparing for something like this.

"Many of those who aren't lawyers would like you to think so," he said, which blatantly wasn't true. "But the truth is, they're just jealous. Because being a lawyer is cool. You don't believe me? Look at me. I'm a lawyer. I'm cool."

Technically, he wasn't a lawyer at the moment. But he totally was cool. Look at his chest-- that took work.

"Now look at yourself. You're not lawyers. Yet. Many of you will no doubt fail. That's why becoming a lawyer means being smart. If that means getting a fake degree from the country of Columbia and passing it off as the University of Colombia? Why not. You're a lawyer. You're smart. You're cool."

He whipped off his sunglasses. "C'mon. Don't you want to be cool... like me?"

Why Being a Bounty Hunter is Better Than Being a Jedi or a Useless Smuggler Like Han Solo

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Boba Fett!

Re: Why Being a Bounty Hunter is Better Than Being a Jedi or a Useless Smuggler Like Han Solo

[sarlacc-bait.livejournal.com]

Boba Fett was, in general, not known for his amazing oratory powers, so there was an increasingly awkward silence as a man in a helmet he wasn't going to take off stared at the students sitting before him.

He recognized some of them. Creepy.

Finally, when the silence had stretched well past "awkward" and into "dear God, can this guy even talk?" he began.

By shooting a wire around Ben Skywalker and strapping him down into his chair.

"HEY!" Ben protested, glaring.

"Bounty hunters are more efficient than Jedi," Boba proclaimed in a New Zealand Mandolorian accent that came and went as he spoke, "because we are not overly burdened by morality."

Another awkward pause.

"And we get paid. And aren't arrogant and superior and expecting the galaxy to fall into place just because we want it to."

For Boba this was a pretty long speech.

"Be a Bounty Hunter," he finished a little lamely, "Because shooting is better than talking any day."

"Don't even think about shooting me," Ben added, glaring.

Boba ignored him. "Questions?"

Journalism: the Dirt, the Delivery, and Clawing Your Way to the Top

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Robin Scherbatsky!

Working for a Genius

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Archie Goodwin!

Courier Service

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Rude!

Women in a Man's World

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

And Veronica Palmer!