But where shall my seed find purchase?

I just read in today's edition of Common Dreams' newsletter, that if you are fat, or over 40, don't hope to get a job at Wal Mart. Well crap. That really blasted my dream outta the sky. Hey, wait a minute. I went to WalMart last Saturday, and there was no shortage of the portly and doddering in blue smocks. But then, this is Oregon, where the majority of the population is either in XXXL pants or depends, or, god help us, both. If you're not a lumber jack, or lucky enough to have Alzheimers, you work at WalMart, or some other rotton sweat shop. Oh, now I'm bitter again. But wait! I have an interview next week with the county to become...A Transfer Site Attendant! Yes, the dump beckons, and in my heart I know this is where I belong. The great outdoors, breathing free, babysitting the community servicers. Perhaps I've found my niche at last. Perhaps I'd better not show up for the interview drunk.