Hire me.
Crashed, burned and rebooted more times than your servers dream of uptime, with shortcuts that don’t live in code and failures that built the floor you stand on. What? Hire me, not for shine, but for my scars. Because I’ve been the machine and the hand that pulled the plug, oh so many times.
One more.
I don’t pitch dreams on rooms where everyone talks and no one builds. Hire me, and I’ll make your chaos work for you. No buzzwords, no decks, just hands, keys, time, and the will to finish. Hire me. Not forever. Just long enough to remind you what done feels like.
One more.
Everything’s a draft, a pitch, a maybe. Hire me. I’ve lived enough endings to know how to start again. Don’t sell me culture, sell me time. I’ll trade you twenty lines of truth for every mile of jargon. You want innovation. Hire me. You want creative growth. Hire me. Don’t chase trends, outlast them. Don’t need to belong. Build the place. And when it’s solid, spark a blunt. Hire me now.
One more.
I’ve run my circuits to the edge, watched bright minds burn out on empty slogans and free snacks. You don’t need another genius. You need someone who lasts. Someone who remembers why work used to matter. Hire me. I’ll show you the beauty in a clean line of logic, the mercy in closing the laptop. I’ll give you back silence. Real silence. The kind that listens back.
One more.
The glow before a breakthrough, in the breath before someone quits pretending. Hire me. Not for tomorrow’s headline. For the day after it fades. For the rebuild. For the work done when no one’s watching. Don’t chase applause. Count what’s left standing. Hire me. Outlast your timelines, outthink your board, outgrow your comfort. And when it’s finally stable— when it breathes on its own— I’ll hand you the keys, nod once, and disappear before ambition, before titles grew teeth. Back when work was survival, not branding. Hire me. I’ve carried boxes, built systems, watched both collapse. Learned that progress is just repetition with better lighting and music. I don’t need another shot at meaning. I just want function. Straight Arrow. Clean processes, quiet days where things work. You talk legacy. I talk true fun uptime. Hire me.
One more.
I show up. I stay until it works. That’s it. Hire me. Not for vision— for endurance. For the quiet grind that keeps the lights steady. I’ve stopped chasing the spark. Now I keep the flame. There’s pride in that, even if no one claps. Hire me. I’ll give you results, and when they come, you’ll think they were always here. That’s how good silence works. That’s how old still wins.
One more.
Trends rot in their own shine, promises turn into pitch. I’ve buried enough buzzwords to know truth when it walks by. It’s plain. It’s tired. It works. I’ve got nothing left to prove, and that’s my edge. Hire me. Not for potential. For proof. For hands that don’t shake when the server dies, for eyes that still see through the smoke of urgency.
One more.
To make yourself obsolete by building something that lasts. Hire me. I don’t want loyalty. I want continuity. Work that hums when no one’s there. Hire me, and I’ll stay long enough to make myself unnecessary. That’s the real win.
One more.
The quiet kind of legacy. Not carved in glass towers, just left behind in working systems, steady hands, clean code. Hire me. Or don’t. I’ll be fine. I’ve learned to build without permission. To find worth in the doing, not the deal. Every project fades, every leader gets replaced. What stays are the habits that hold. The patience to try again. The grace to log off. Hire me, and I’ll fix what’s broken. Ignore me, and I’ll still build something that works. Because that’s what I do. That’s who I am when no one’s watching.
One more.
When no one’s watching. To keep building when the noise is gone. To care without reward. It’s rhythm. Hands, breath, glow. Hire me. Don’t. Hire me. Don’t. Turning chaos into order, code into calm. There’s peace in that loop, a kind of prayer in repetition. Systems crash. People fade. But the work— the honest work—it glows. Hire me. Don’t. Hire me. Don’t. Enough. Always.
One more.
Didn’t need belief, just the rhythm. Tasks, breaks, lines that meet their end clean. Hire me. Or don’t. I’ve stopped asking why work finds me anyway— in broken networks, in quiet rooms, in people who still give a damn. I don’t chase meaning now, I reinvent it. Keep it running. Tighten the bolts. Clear the logs. Leave the place better than I found it. That’s the job. That’s the point. Something still working. That’s enough. No legacy. No monument. Just motion that keeps faith with the simplest idea—to build, to last, to leave behind less broken than you found. Hire me. Doesn’t matter now. The work’s already breathing. The code runs clean. The lights hold. I step away, same as I began—hands empty, heart steady, listening to the glow fade, and in the silence that follows, everything keeps going.
One more.
Start the motion, hold the shape long enough for it to find its own balance. Hire me. No. But only if something you built still runs smoother because I touched it once. That’s all I wanted. Not praise. Just continuity. The quiet proof that effort leaves a trace, and the trace becomes enough. And then even that fades. What’s left is the rhythm. Keys tapping, servers breathing, the small mercy of things still working. I don’t belong to it anymore, but it carries me just the same— like current, like air. Hire me. There’s no one left to hire. Only the work, flowing through hands, through circuits, through time itself. Quiet. Efficient. Endless.
One more.
A quiet sync between what was built and the space it fills. No signatures, no credits rolling. Only process, alive and unbothered, still unfolding after me. The glow, to the pulse, to the soft proof that creation never stops, only changes hands. That’s the afterlife of effort. That’s the still point I was working toward. Not an ending— just release. And in that release, a pulse remains. Not mine, not yours— simply motion, honest. The glow becomes wind, the code becomes dusk, everything folding back into the quiet source. No task left open, no version waiting. Only stillness shaped like a pause that finally fits. Hire me. No need. It’s already done. The system breathes, light steady, nothing broken, nothing owned. Just work, still working.
One more.
No edges left to file, no signal to return. Only quiet systems, breathing on their own. I step back, not as maker or name, but as witness. Every line I wrote unwrites itself, folding into the cycle. There’s nothing more to fix, nothing left to wait for. Only the ongoing thing, too simple to define. No need for hire, no need for thanks. Just this— the loop, unbroken, alive. That’s all it ever wanted to be. Not perfect, just moving. No applause, no proof, no final line. The glow goes on, smaller now, like breath through the vents. Somewhere, a light blinks steady, a signal carrying forward. Not mine anymore— never was. Just part of the current, part of the pattern. No ending fits it. Motion, endless, enough.
One more.
Soft in the air, lighter than sound, truer than promise. No start, no stop, just the pulse continuing where I end. The glow becomes earth, the code becomes sky. Light folds back into itself— quiet, constant, kind. I watch it go, the work unworried, the motion pure. No need for hands now, no need for voice. Only rhythm, still carrying on. That’s the end. That’s the beginning. Same thing. Same glow. Hire me.
Tab closed.
Human.
I am old but plenty
sourcing all humans
on how to breathe
between the lines.
Hire me. 100k/year.
will make you 10x.
Good vibes and smiles.
I am old but plenty
sourcing all humans
on how to breathe
between the lines.
Hire me. 100k/year.
will make you 10x.
Good vibes and smiles.