LHB Blog

A girl, a blog and a cactus named Pudding

Tag: dole scum (Page 1 of 2)

A Job Offer you say?

Alternative title: Sometimes I think the Universe is a mischievous little git…

 

HR Lady: “Hi Ruebi I’m just calling about your job interview at ‘Company’ the other day, the interviewers have made a decision about the next stage”.

Me: “Oh aye?”

HR Lady: “They’ve decided there won’t be any second interviews…”

Brain: “Well this shit sounds familiar! I’ll get the gin and an IV line”.

Me: “I see, well thank you for taking the time t-”

HR Lady: “We’d like to offer you the job…if you’d like it?”

Me: “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Brain: “TAKE IT! TAKE IT! JUST TAKE THE DAMNED OFFER! DON’T MAKE ME KICK YOU IN THE HYPOTHALAMUS!”

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Good morning Jobseekers!

Alternative title: If I want to drink Super Strength lagers out of a sweaty wellington boot while sitting on a questionably stained sofa with the rest of the dole-scum at 8:30am then I will alright!? …Trousers and blowing chunks optional…being able to discuss and critically evaluate ‘Obsessive Compulsive Cleaners‘  at various levels of incoherent whittering is essential (extra points given for how to avoid chundering when dealing with a blocked and possibly overflowing crapper).

 

“How’s unemployment treating you?” my ex-colleague asked “still got all your fingers?”

I’m going to assume my ex-colleague was referring to my amazing knife juggling skills (or lack of), or referring to town rivalries…or maybe he was just being a pervert. Either way I could safely answer that I did indeed have all my fingers, 6 on each hand to be precise (used my toes to count them and everything). What wasn’t so easy to answer was his first question.

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The Second Interview That Never Was

Alternative title: Being turned down for a second job interview because I am 10 years younger than the supervisor is utter turd…so turd in fact that I can still smell the stench of bull-poop emanating from the phone call…They could have given a more concrete reason, like having a severe dislike of my face (which may or may not look like a bag of spanners). 

 

“It’s nothing personal” the Recruiter said “the HR Manager loved you at the first interview, she thought you were very knowledgeable and professional…but we need to cancel the second interview….your age is a problem. The direct supervisor wants someone in her forties who she can relate to, you’re just too young…though you should be flattered by that”.

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2 Interviews, 1 Migraine Hangover, 0 Patience

Alternative title: I still maintain that “at least I remembered to wear trousers” is the best statement I could make in any interview when faced with a brain full of rabid squirrels…seriously, interviews would be so much worse if I forgot the trousers…and so much better if I forgot the squirrels.

 

Yesterday I woke up feeling as though I’d been smashed in the face with a shovel, which (bear with me) wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling. You see, for the last few days (read as: 4 sodding days) the neurons in my noggin have been fighting a war between good and evil for the sake of my soul…or over whether or not we should eat the last caramel chocolate digestive…neither wanting to admit defeat. As such, my brain has been that much of a painful mess that I was pretty much rendered useless.

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