Cory's Character Reference

 

So ya need a character reference, eh? Well, I've known Cory McClure for a lot more of my life than not. So long, in fact, that I consider him my li'l brother. 

Cory's a fast learner with a great memory. Being that I played tricks on him all the time, he had to be, in case I tried playing the same trick on him twice on a slow day. 

Insomuch as I didn't want to bring up a sissy for a li'l brother, on our farm on the Queens Line, I taught Cory Ottawa Valley farmboy work ethic and to be 'tough as nails'. So, if he cuts off the end of his finger in a shear, he'll just shrug it off, and say, "Tough as nails", and go back to work. If he squishes his big toe in a press (not sure why that would happen, but still), he'll just shrug it off, and say, "Tough as nails" and get back on the job. Now, if he pancakes someone else's big toe in a press, I'm not sure he'll own up to that, but there's really only one thing that I can think of that might bring him to do so, and we'll get to that later on.

His nose is made of rubber. There's no cartilage in it. If you ask, he might even show you. You can't break it. There may be copious amounts of blood, but, if you can get the bleeding stopped, he'll just shrug it off, and say, "Tough as nails", and go right back to work with a coupla waddsa toilet tishah stuffed up his nostrils like Mr. Bean. 

If you're transitioning from aerospace to space space, he can design (and pilot) a rocketship with the best of them. I know that for a fact because we did it together when we were kids. To infinity and beyond... 

If yer cattle get out, he's the best doggone cattle runner downer I ever met in my life. (Track and field: hah! Pasture and field is where the real runners are at). I was a fair t'middlin' one myself, I must say, and goodness knows it takes one to know one. He can wrassle 'em, too. If, however, in the process of wrasslin' them, you happen to get your entire head shat upon like I once did, he will at that point become pretty much useless to you as he will be breathlessly laughing his head off and pointing at you with one hand and doubled over holding his belly with the other instead of helping you shed yourself of a load you really didn't want. I used that particular word because it was a shat-tering experience for myself. A poopering experience just doesn't quite get the message across. 

All that said, one thing I didn't manage to help him conquer was his fear of the dark. So I hope you have a back up generator in case the power goes out. He tends to panic in the dark and slap like an octopus in a mosquito cage, so, given the size of him, anyone within arm's reach will end up looking like their face was stung by a dozen jellyfish. Speaking of that, he swims like one, so if a fire breaks out and the sprinklers go off, as long as the water doesn't get right to the ceiling and there's still an air pocket, he'll be just fine. Rescue everyone else first, because he'll be having a whale of a time. Get it? I made a funny! 'Whale of a time'? Didja see what I did there? Didja? 

Anyway... 

I'm the one with claustrophobia, so, if he gets trapped in a centrifuge, don't worry, he'll be alright. If it's running, he possibly might barf (I'm not really sure on that as we never got to NASA to try their Vomit Comet), but he won't be scared as long as there's a light in it. 

He isn't afraid of heights, either, so, if he dozes off at lunch, and you winch him up to the rafters for a lark, you really won't get that much of a kick out of it. But, let him know he's up there then turn off the lights. NOW you're in for a treat! Grab your infrared googles and a bucket of popcorn and it's Show Time... 

Don't be overly concerned about your equipment not being exactly ergonomic because he's got a reach like the long arm of the law. And his fingers can wrap around a softball and still have enough left to pick his nose. Or yours. Not that I've ever seen him do either, but you never know. You have probably noticed by now that he's not exactly overly hairy, so there's little risk of him getting it caught in anything. 

Unless you're bored and have a lot of time on your hands, don't ask Cory McClure if he knows anything about Spitfires. Not the 1970's John Deere snowmobile ones: the World War II Supermarine terror of the Luftwaffe type. I promise you'll run out of time or patience before he runs out of details. You might have even quietly snuck out while he was still ecstatically rambling on with an erstwhile smile on his face and mist in his eye. We both missed our callings as WWII Aces of the Skies but you can't have it all. He can wash his face and entire head in one motion so at least that's a consolation. 

Up until just now I didn't think it was possible to use the phrase, 'entire head' twice in the same workforce character reference. Go figger... 

I have to say Cory is a first rate go-kart racer, too, so if you happen to have company go-kart races, you can be pretty sure he'll be the Grand Poobah Champyun Winner. Unless yours truly shows up, of course. But even then he'd still be Runner Up. Some people say, "Second is the first loser", but I think that's a little on the mean side. Just not nearly as good as me is all. 

He's fairly even tempered, but don't pilfer his poutine, or all bets are off. I've never seen anyone stupid enough to try, and I pity the fool that would. This is what I was alluding to earlier by him, someone else's big toe, and a hydraulic press. There have been infamous serial killers less sinister than Cory's predatory instinct around a platter of poutine. You don't get between a Scotsman like me and free stuff, and you sure as heck don't get between Cory Spitfire McClure and his beloved poutine. *shudder...*

In summation: Keep the lights burning, don't ask him about Schpitfires when there's a deadline, don't gitcher head pooped on in his line of sight, and for the love of all that is well and good don't pinch his poutine, and everything should be A-OK. 

Danny Bowes

PS: I am not looking for a job myself at this time, but consider this my resume' for your promotions department in the event that I change my mind.