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 | So, Joyce. Where do you see yourself in five years? | |
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| I see me standing over your limp bloody body, revolver in hand. I pull my resume out of your filing cabinet, slowly crumple it up, and drop it onto your mangled corpse. | |
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| Then I'm like "Vacation Approved!" as I walk out the door into the bright sunlight. | |
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| Jesus. | |
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| Or, I see me as the new Regional Sales Director. | |
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