More Like Job Un-Fair...No, Wait, "Job Fair" Is Correct

So today was the big job fair.
I got up early, showered and shaved, got dressed in slightly dressy fashion (dress pants, dress shoes, gray, sweatery sort of dressy shirt thingy), scooped up my many copies of my résumé, and made my way to Reston where I spent 10 minutes driving around in a vain effort to find a parking space less than a quarter mile away from the Sheraton where the job fair was being held.
Eventually I gave up trying to find anything closer and made the quarter mile+ trek from where I’d parked to the hotel.
There were a LOT of people there, which isn’t surprising because a LOT of people got laid off.
I saw some people I know, including Simon (who looked positively adorable in his little suit), and my former boss’ former boss, who was actually canned long before the layoffs, but was, apparently, still able to attend the event, as I imagine his severance package covered a much longer span than mine does, given his pay level when he was with AOL.
There were a lot of companies represented there, including Google. I didn’t even bother talking to the Google people as a)any job openings they had required relocating and b)the Google table was the most popular one there, with lines rivaling those of a popular amusement park ride.
Paradoxically, many of the IT companies represented there didn’t actually have any IT recruiters at the fair.
A couple of the people I gave copies of my résumé requested that I also e-mail them soft copies so that they could more easily distribute them to other people in their companies.
Overall, the whole thing consisted of people just milling about and recruiters telling people to check out their companies’ Web sites for any job openings, which made it all seem kind of pointless, and I came away from it not feeling any more hopeful about the future than I had been.
Oh well.
Some time ago I mentioned to Scott that the fact that I’m as solitary as I am means that I have even less opportunity than the average person (recognizing that the average person doesn’t have much of an opportunity to do so either) to have minions whom I can command to “Go forth and do my bidding!”
I was thinking about this on my way home from the job fair and it occurred to me that rather than trying to find some other NOC job, or something in technical writing, I should pursue a career in super-villainy, and I began working out a list of pros and cons to such a career, as well as some of the assets and liabilities I bring to the super-villainy table.

Pros:
In addition to being able to command them to go forth and do my bidding, I could also punish my minions for their effrontery.
Maniacal laughter is never inappropriate.
There are no super-heroes, so I would only have to contend with conventional law-enforcement and military types.
Wearing the same outfit day-in and day-out eliminates the need to decide what to wear.
As Stan Lee pointed out in an interview in reference to Dr. Doom, there is nothing inherently illegal about aspiring to take over the world. While some of your actions along the way might get you into hot water, you can’t be arrested for simply aspiring to world conquest.
If I were to succeed in conquering the world, my ultimate supremacy over all living things would trump the declarations of actresses like Jessica Alba who say they will never do nude scenes.
Flexible hours.
Chicks dig bad boys.
Reading Threshold and leaving positive comments would be mandatory.
People would have two options: place an order for a Heroic Portrait or be destroyed!
Everyone would have to kneel before Jon.
10% Super-Villain Discount at Bed, Bath & Beyond.

Cons:
Constantly battling off rivals for the throne.
The cost of R&D and upkeep on doomsday devices.
So much paperwork.
Most of the good names/themes are taken.
A life devoted to evil would undoubtedly require an alliance with Fox News.
Whiny people constantly begging to be spared.
Dealing with reps from the Minions and Henchmen United, local 305.
High minion attrition rate due to constant punishing of effrontery and failing to go forth and do my bidding. The cost of removing bloodstains and the smell of charred flesh from my evil command center would be through the roof, and the constant loss of co-workers would generally be hard on minion morale.
Mutant super-beasts enslaved to my will would aggravate my pet dander allergies.
Paparazzi always in your face (or at least your titanium-plated face mask) and just waiting for that opportunity for a nipslip or crotch shot when free-balling under the tunic.
Luthor-esque tight green pants and skin-tight purple shirt make me look fat. And are also tacky.
Hidden lairs tend to be drafty.
The whole thing reeks of effort.

Assets:
I don’t have a fatal weakness for Hostess® brand snacks.
A lifetime of reading comic books has made me keenly aware of all the little unconscious traps that super-villains invariably set for themselves. Thus, no revealing my nefarious scheme to the hero while there’s still a chance it can be stopped, no choosing elaborate death traps over the simple expedient of a gunshot to the head, and no giving in to self-doubt at the precise moment of my ultimate triumph, to name only a few.
I don’t have any one particular person I hate and around whom all of my evil plans would center, leaving me free to focus on the big picture and pursue all sorts of avenues of villainy.

Liabilities:
Because I don’t have an arch-nemesis, I also don’t have the sort of tragic accident – likely brought on by my own hubris – in my past that pushed me over the edge. For example, Dr. Doom can (dubiously) blame Reed Richards for the accident that destroyed his face, whereas my face just did it to itself.
I have no super-powers, and am not some sort of super-scientific genius.
Just opening a bag of chips can turn into an epic struggle for me – a struggle in which I don’t always succeed – so it seems unlikely that I would prevail in a struggle against the united forces of the world.
Unfortunately, I have a conscience, and am not particularly interested in hurting people. Even though being able to un-self-consciously bellow “You shall pay for your effrontery!” would be cool, I probably wouldn’t be able to follow through on it. Nor would I be able to get someone to beg me for mercy, or to not destroy their city.
Despite Machiavelli’s thoughts on the subject, I think I’d rather be loved than feared.

So overall I guess a career in super-villainy really isn’t for me. I would honestly be more inclined towards a career in super-heroism anyway, but that pays jack, and I don’t really have any of the necessary assets for that either.
*Sigh* I’m like the chartered accountant in the Monty Python sketch who wanted to become a lion tamer because he had mistaken anteaters for lions and, as a result, thought that taming them would be easy. Besides which, he had a hat that said “Lion Tamer” on it, and thought that a good half of the job was already done. Then the career counselor showed him what lions actually look like and suddenly chartered accountancy no longer seemed so unappealing as it had.
So I guess it’s back to looking for a job in a NOC...