Q: Why do people with a low self esteem have a lower chance of getting a job?

A: Employers want confident employees, employees who rise to meet every challenge, who will put out every fire figurative or literal, who will solve every problem, attend every meeting,  fill out every suit, impress every vendor with their charm and wit, employees who know what they are doing, or at the very least, look and act like they know what they are doing.

People with low self-esteem are never confident. They're insecure to their very core, often the result of a childhood trauma, a trauma they will be more than happy to share in excruciating detail at the worst possible moment, like when you're chatting up Cindy, the intern with the nose ring.

People with low self-esteem are often fat. No one wants to work with fat people, to have have their work constantly disrupted by the sounds of labored breathing, to be be doused with sweat, to have the office clouded with debates over flavored gravy. Fat employees are endless distractions, especially for someone like Cindy who spends far too much of her day laughing at their lame jokes instead of looking at pictures of your new Corvette.

People with low esteem have an unpredictable sense of humor. They often don't laugh at jokes enough, or, far worse, they laugh too much, frequently at their own jokes. On far too many occasions, an important story about a wild weekend in Vegas, a story which would normally appeal to Cindy, is ruined when the low self-esteem employee laughs at the wrong part, confusing Cindy and making her reconsider offers to join the executive staff in Vegas on the next corporate retreat.

People with low self-esteem lack the physical attractiveness required in today's workplace. Pretty people make pretty employees, increasing the chances for workplace affairs, workplace affairs being the reason most people come to work in the first place. Sure, it's nice to have a few uglies around to make the rest of the staff look better, provided that the uglies know their place on the pecking order and don't step out of line by always talking to Cindy and taking Cindy out to lunch and inviting Cindy out for drinks and befriending Cindy and treating Cindy with respect and telling Cindy that she doesn't have to work late and warning Cindy that Intern Bikini Day is not a real thing, causing irreparable damage to office morale.

Well, that's all the time I have for today. I have to get back to the office. It's always fun to get a chance to come back to my alma mater and speak to the next generation of business leaders.  I hope I've answered your questions and I look forward to working with some of you once you've received your MBAs, especially the redhead in the back and the blonde over there by the window. In case anyone is interested in an internship, one just became available. Ladies only.  Call me.

Q: How do you activate your DVD on your hp computer?

A: I never thought you'd ask that. Son, there's something you should know. There's a reason you can't play your DVD on your computer, a simple, valid, totally understandable reason, a reason I will tell you right now. Look into the camera while I tell you. Right here, look right here. Are you ready?

You don't have a computer. You have a cardboard box with lines drawn on it. Your keyboard is nothing but an old log covered with Alph-Bits. That image on your monitor is from an issue of Wired I found in the garbage.All those beeps and flashing lights? I made those sounds. I flipped the light switch whenever you used the computer.You don't really have a computer. You have a box. A cardboard box.

When we gave you your box, we thought you'd be really sad, maybe cry, lash out, freak out, something, do something,anything, and we'd get it all on tape and be a shoo-in to win the grand prize on America's Funniest Home Videos. But you didn't freak out or cry or anything like that. You seemed happy. You seemed to think that you had a computer. We assumed you'd eventually discover that you didn't have a computer, that you'd try to play a game or a friend would tell you or you'd notice that the image on the monitor never changed, something, anything that would make you cry or freak out or make a scene, a scene worthy of $10,000 and a trip to Hollywood. We were sure it was bound to happen, could happen at any moment. So we kept rolling and kept rolling and kept rolling. For seven years.

You know what we have for our trouble? The world's most boring documentary about the world's dumbest kid. With the world's saddest father.

But at least we have an ending.

If you could cry or something, that would really help me out. We won't win that $10,000, but we might end up on Tosh.0. I'd like my life to mean something.