"There's nothing better than Tom Jones," Rusty's mother informs her young son. "He represents the very best life has to offer." And thus the crooner becomes symbolic of uninspired fare, that which is as inoffensive as it is unoriginal: white walls, khaki pants. Now twenty-three, Rusty is knee-deep in mediocrity. A prisoner marking time on a life sentence of nine-to-five, he spends his days pandering to an overbearing boss with an unfavorable likeness to Steve Buscemi. Life hasn't shaped up to be all Rusty thought it'd be; he hasn't shaped up to be all he thought he'd be. And so, flanked by a sideshow of accomplices, he plunges headlong into each weekend. When not even Grace, her blue-green eyes alive with hope, can slow the unrelenting descent, Rusty authors a rebellion that sees him abandon personal hygiene and sully his boss' sister in the hope of being laid off. Challenging every principle espoused by corporate America, Rusty finds that getting hired is easier than getting fired.
About Bob McCarthy
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Published June 12, 2008
Literature & Fiction, Humor & Entertainment.