Working In Canada is Paradise

Your whole life you knew you were different. And not just because you've been severely bullied since pre-school. Every day you used to get your ass kicked on the way home from school for wearing pastels. You were just too nice to fight back. A mean bone simply doesn't exist in your body. It hurt you deeply however, you would go home and sponge bathe in maple syrup, within the homemade igloo that sits in the backyard of your Greenwich estate, often flipping on old Jim Carrey tapes to forget about it. I mean seriously, what is up with Jim Carrey, he is just too darned funny!

After 18 years of getting your ass kicked on the playground for smelling like maple syrup and being slightly effeminate, you're finally ready to branch out and go to college. Sadly, every single US school rejects you because they too find you kind of womanly and think you talk funny. Suddenly, a flash of insight occurs to you. You apply as a diversity candidate to National Bank of Canada because you've finally accepted your identity as gender androgynous. HR calls you back immediately. "Oh, sorry for the call, eh? In Canada we are all gay. You're just a normal male over here!" Within 15 minutes you've secured the offer within National Bank of Canada's premier coverage group: Maple Syrup. Thank got the hockey equipment group didn't draft you, those guys have a habit of dropping their phones and beating the shit out of each other on ice skates every time there's a disagreement on deal economics.

But the maple syrup guys seem amazing! Everyone is so much nicer and there's so much less toxic masculinity. By 11:30AM you're convinced that this can't be right. You thought IB was intense? Cut-throat? People getting pissy with each other and screaming at their subordinates at all hours of the night? Something is going on here, how do these Canadians manage to stay so damn calm? Maybe Tim Horton's coffee in uncaffinated, you reason, that could explain the mellow office vibes. Little do you know about the lunch time ritual...

Soon noon rolls around. All of the sudden a frigid, icy gale blows through the office. Every Intern and Analyst turns white as a ghost and goes completely silent. You cannot even here the click of a pen or chatter of used keyboards. Slowly, faintly and then louder, you here the "clop...clop...clop" of Canada West boots walking toward you. It is the Head of Canadian IB. He is wearing a Canada Goose jacket, hair slicked back with maple syrup and being followed by 12 half wolf half husky dogs. They pulled his sleigh all the way into the office. The noon ritual is to begin...

The Head of Canadian IB slowly walks circles around the cubicles that the analysts and interns sit at. Not a single soul moves or speaks. He circles around your desk three or four times. You can't breathe. He walks directly behind you...then he taps the intern sitting next to you on the back of the head.

"You" he says in a thick Russian accent. "You have been chosen, Igor". Igor stands up, in an absolute state of terror. He is a purple heart and diabetes type II survivor. He recently knocked up his girlfriend and has triplets on the way. His family needs him and loves him dearly.

The Head of Canadian IB picks him up, smears maple syrup on him and throws him into the back of hybrid dog-wolves. They begin eating him alive. "AHHHHHH! FUCK! I HAVE CHILDREN THAT NEED ME! PLEASE GOD, PLEASE JESUS CHRIST SAVE ME. OH MY FUCKING GOD THEY ARE EATING MY KIDNEYS. THEY ARE EATING MY KIDNEYS AND FUCKING MY EYE SOCKETS PLEASE SOMEBODY MAKE THIS END. OH MY GOD JUST KILL ME KNOW. TELL MY KIDS I FUCKING HATE THEM AND THAT I DIED IN PAIN. THEY WERENT EVEN MINE MY GIRLFRIEND FUCKED THE MAIL MAN. MY LIFE IS A LIE JUST HURRY UP AND KILL ME OH MY FUCK THE WOLVES ARE SHITTING INSIDE MY CHEST CAVITY!" There is blood everywhere. The wolves are chewing on his vital organs while he watches. The blood curdling shrieking can be heard around the block. Not a single soul in the office dares to watch or make a sound.

Then, suddenly, it stops. It is 12:30PM, a church bell rings, the ritual is over. The Canadians have satisfied their blood lust for the day. The office goes back to mellow and polite.

MFW the Canadians have kept sane in the frigid, barren wasteland of the Artic for so long by brutally sacrificing their own children to the Husky Wolves. This is not the way...