You’re a Match!
The More Bullet Points, The Better The Odds.
You’re a Match!
ACT 1: SO MUCH HOPE
OPENING SCENE:
INT. MODEST LIVING ROOM, EVENING
A commercial blares on a dusty TV. It’s an Indeed.com ad, all sunshine and hope. Beautiful people in crisp shirts do meaningful work, shaking hands, smiling with coffee, standing in front of inexplicably large windows.
TV VOICEOVER (CHEERY, TOO LOUD):
“Find the job of your dreams! With Indeed’s AI-powered smart matching, the best opportunities come to you, because you deserve better.”
On screen:
A woman clicks “OPEN TO WORK.” The sky literally gets bluer.
TV VOICEOVER:
“Indeed. The future of work… is just a click away.”
CUT TO:
INT. APARTMENT: NEXT EVENING
CHARLIE, 42, sits at his kitchen table, hunched over a beat-up laptop. He wears a company polo that’s seen better decades. Greying stubble. Sunken eyes. He’s eating leftover spaghetti with a spoon, glancing between bites at his resume.
He just finished setting up his Indeed profile.
He hovers over the final button:
“OPEN TO WORK”
A beat.
He clicks it.
CHARLIE (V.O.):
Twelve years in warehouse operations. Five of them managing night crews who’d rather die than clock in on time. I’ve filed OSHA reports, learned Excel under duress, and once used a broken pallet jack as a weapon.
He adjusts his résumé, quietly inflating:
“Oversaw integrated logistics frameworks”
(read: yelled at Ted until he loaded the right truck)
“Cross-functional team leadership”
(read: managed Carl and his vape habit)
CHARLIE (V.O.):
I didn’t lie. I just… reframed. That’s what the TED Talks say.
He uploads the resume. Waits.
A DING. An email. Already?
He clicks it.
“YOU’RE A MATCH!”
Job: Regional Ferret Logistics Coordinator (Night Shift)
Location: “Unspecified. Some air travel.”
Salary: $22,000 - $470,000
Education: “Preferred: Advanced degree in Interpersonal Chemistry”
Match score: 96%
Want to apply?
Charlie blinks.
CHARLIE (V.O.):
Okay. Probably a fluke. Ferrets? That’s… maybe an inside joke?
DING. Another match.
Job: Emergency Glacier Consultant (On-Call)
Location: “Mobile”
Salary: “Varies with climate collapse”
Match: 97%
Reason for match: “Experience with cold storage”
Charlie looks around. His fridge is broken. The irony hurts.
DING. DING. DING.
The feed is lighting up.
QUICK CUTS:
“Crisis Management Officer , Carnival Ship Division”
“Night Mayor of Cincinnati”
“Sword-Based Conflict Mediator (Entry-Level)”
“Remote Balloon Strategist”
CHARLIE (V.O.):
I thought the hard part was getting noticed.
His cat stares at him from the counter. Judging.
He slumps in his chair.
CHARLIE (V.O.):
I just want something better. A job with a chair that rolls. Maybe dental. Something with less yelling and fewer rats. Or more rats, if they’re at least unionized.
He scrolls again.
Job: “Assistant to the Regional Witch”
Salary: “Paid in experience and dirt coins”
Match: 94%
Want to apply?
He clicks “apply”
CHARLIE (V.O.):
Okay. Okay, maybe the problem’s me. The algorithm’s only as smart as the junk I gave it, right?
ACT TWO: DING
INT. APARTMENT: NEXT DAY
Charlie sits at the same table, but now he’s got coffee. Not good coffee. But functional coffee. He’s in “project mode” a yellow notepad filled with scribbles, open browser tabs, a Udemy course playing at 2x speed.
On screen:
“Fiverr: Resume Optimization by a Real HR Expert! - $45”
CHARLIE (V.O.):
So I paid a guy named Keith, who swears he used to work at LinkedIn, to rewrite my resume. Said I was ‘burying the lead’ and ‘underselling my brand.’
New headline: “OPERATIONS LEADER | TEAM BUILDER | STRATEGIC LOGISTICS GURU”
Bullet point: “Drove 13% increase in throughput via cross-departmental synergies”
(He yelled at Carl again. That’s what happened.)
CHARLIE (V.O.):
He used the word ‘synergy’ four times. And I didn’t stop him.
Charlie uploads the new resume. Updates the profile.
Clicks:
“OPEN TO WORK”
He smiles. He’s proud. This time, he’s playing the game.
DING.
“YOU’RE A MATCH!”
Job: Warehouse Lead : Goat Milk Distribution
Salary: “$14/hour”
Location: “75 miles away (no relocation)”
Requirements: “Lift 120 lbs. repeatedly. No breaks. No unions.”
Reason for match: “Leadership in dairy-adjacent environments”
Charlie frowns.
DING.
Job: Logistics Support: Local Amazon Subsidiary
Salary: “$38,000 with no benefits”
Hours: “Swing shift, rotating”
Reviews: “1.8 stars, Manager throws boxes when angry”
Charlie scrolls to the bottom of the posting:
“YOU’RE A GREAT FIT! WANT TO APPLY?”
CHARLIE (V.O.):
Great fit. For who? A medieval peasant with a CrossFit addiction?
DING.
Job: Operations Consultant (Unpaid Internship)
Location: “Remote”
Requirements: “MBA preferred. BYO laptop.”
Perks: “Networking. Exposure to visionary leadership.”
Charlie stares at the screen, slack-jawed.
CHARLIE (V.O.):
I’m forty-two. I have a bad knee and two maxed-out credit cards. I don’t need exposure. I need a dental plan and a chair that doesn’t squeak when I lean left.
He slowly closes the laptop.
A pause.
Then, it DINGS again. He doesn’t open it. It DINGS twice more.
He pours more coffee. No milk. Just black. Just survival.
CHARLIE (V.O.):
They say it’s a numbers game. Keep applying. Stay positive. But every ding feels like a dare.
Offscreen, the laptop DINGS again. Louder this time.
Then again.
Then a sixth ding, low, guttural. Wrong.
He looks over slowly. The screen flickers. Something’s… different.
ACT THREE: HOPE, AGAIN (BECAUSE IT’S A DISEASE)
INT. APARTMENT: ONE WEEK LATER
Charlie sits in the same chair, now with a neck pillow and wrist brace. His eyes are bloodshot. There’s a self-help book open next to him:
“The Art of Being Marketable in Late-Stage Capitalism”
He watches a TikTok guru in a cheap suit scream at the camera:
TIKTOK GUY:
“You gotta simplify, bro! Resumes need SKIM-ABILITY! Bullets. Keywords. Maximize your discoverability!”
CHARLIE (V.O.):
Okay. Clean. Focused. Just the hits.
INT. WORD DOCUMENT: LATER
CHARLIE P.
SKILLS: Logistics. Operations. Team Management. Forklift. Cross-functional. Metrics. Lean. KPIs. People. Excel. Not a problem drinker.
OBJECTIVE: “Work.”
He exhales. Uploads. Updates. Clicks “Open to Work.”
DING.
Job: Unpaid Internship: Shadowing a Guy Who Has a Job
Location: “Remote (in spirit)”
Salary: “Mentorship”
DING.
Job: Assistant Assistant (Contract)
Salary: “You’ll figure it out”
Notes: “We’re legally not a company”
DING. DING. DING.
Remote (in Seattle)
Remote (in Afghanistan)
Remote (when not needed in office)
Charlie’s fingers tremble. He’s about to throw the laptop out the window when, DING.
But this one’s different.
SUBJECT LINE:
You’re a PERFECT match.
Charlie freezes.
CHARLIE (V.O.):
No ferrets. No unpaid networking. Just clean Helvetica and a salary with a comma.
He clicks.
Position: Senior Logistics Manager: Supply Chain Systems
Company: Legitimate. Verified. Blue check mark even.
Salary: $112,000 + benefits
Location: Remote. For real. No tricks.
Summary:
“Seeking an experienced operations leader with a practical mindset, resilience, and the ability to manage chaos. Someone who understands systems, and how they fail.”
Charlie’s lip quivers. He smiles for the first time in three scenes. He wipes a tear. Hits Apply.
The page loads.
SPINNING CIRCLE.
Then, “Redirecting to external site…”
A new tab opens.
“Thank you for your interest! Please create an account with MegaHirePlus.com to proceed.”
His smile fades a little. He creates an account.
“Upload resume.”
He does.
“Please re-enter everything from your resume manually.”
He sighs. Types.
“Confirm identity with facial recognition.”
He blinks. A little weird, but okay. Webcam clicks on.
“Now please complete this video interview: Describe your biggest weakness in under 30 seconds.”
Charlie stares at the screen.
CHARLIE (softly):
I believed in this.
The camera records. He says nothing.
Then…
“Thank you! Now please take our gamified personality quiz.”
Game 1: Catch the happy face before it turns sad.
Game 2: Rank these ten adjectives by how others perceive your aura.
Game 3: Use only your mind to move the dot (Note: requires Chrome).
Charlie completes them. Forty-five minutes later…
“Thank you. Your application is under review.”
A pause.
“Estimated time to hear back: 6–8 months”
A final DING.
New email:
“We’ve filled the position, but we’ve found something just for you…”
Job: Assistant Ferret Coordinator (Night Shift)
Match: 100%
Status: You’re a match.
Want to apply?
CHARLIE (V.O.):
clicks “apply”