Return of the root beer drunkard

I burp IBC carbonation and the CO2 climbs into my sinuses and makes tiny chemical sparks. My eyes water. Life is about to change again.

I’m looking through possible jobs in New York and finding plenty to try for. I’ve got my resume together and I’m ready to send it along. It’s time to shine.

The most important part to all of this is for me to write a professionally honest cover letter.
Something like a more detailed elaboration on my objective statement. Something that makes my professional experience
stand out.

Well, there’s always this adorable little oft-quoted phrase: “jack of all trades, master of none.” What no one knows is that this apparent jab at the swiss-army knife skill set is a quote taken out of context. The proper phrase is: “Jack of all trades, master of none, though ofttimes better than master of one.”

The fuller, more balanced phrase describes me well. I want a job where I’ll be given a chance to perform some lateral plays. You need a picture? I’m on it. You need someone on the phones to fact-check? I’m there. You need 750 words? A coverline? A photo caption? There. There. There.

Do I know how to do it? Yes.
Have I done it in your world? No, not yet.
Am I high risk?

Consider this: when I walked into Milford Magazine, I barely knew how to dial a phone. Eight months later, I was acting editor. Was I nervous? Definitely. Did I make a few mistakes? Certainly. But did I pass my first trial-by-fire? Absolutely.

There were months in which I wrote multiple features, gathered art, wrote an opinion column, coverlines, heads and captions all in the same month.

So am I high risk?
If you’re looking for a fast learner with a track-record for expanding both his knowledge of operations and his responsibilities in the publishing world, I’m high yield.

The lights in the attic are clearly working again. The root beer drunkard is back.