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Liar, Liar, New Hire Fired, Stop Hanging Out On My Telephone Wire

| Working | May 6, 2013

(My manager and I are interviewing a young lady with a very impressive resume. Since the job she is applying for is a cashier/floor merchandiser position in a bilingual town, we ask a few mandatory questions.)

Manager: “So, this job requires climbing a lot of ladders. How do you feel about climbing ladders?”

New Hire: “Oh! That’s not a problem for me. I climb ladders at home all the time!”

Manager: “Really? Some of them are really high.”

(My manager motions to a very tall ladder just outside the office in the stock room.)

New Hire: “No, really it’s not a problem. I LOVE heights!”

Me: “Well, how good are your math skills? Our cashiers here count their own tills and occasionally have to calculate the customer’s change mentally. We also do our own inventory counts daily and it requires a lot of adding and multiplication.”

New Hire: “I am excellent in math! My teachers always said I was the BEST in the class! I’m always doing math at home!”

Manager: “Right… well, how are your French skills? Half of our clientele is French-speaking and it’s important we are able to serve them to the best of our abilities.”

New Hire: “Oh my God, yes! I love French! I speak it all the time. My family is French, actually. Sometimes I even think in French.”

(We feel that she is a bit overly enthusiastic about her answers, but we attribute that to nervousness and get her paperwork filed. A week later, it’s her first day of work.)

Me: “Okay, [New Hire], I need you to grab those two cases from the riser. We’re going to work in—”

New Hire: “Woah! Wait! I don’t do ladders. You never said anything about ladders!”

Me: “Umm, I’m pretty sure we went over this in your interview. Remember, you told us you climb ladders at home all the time?”

New Hire: “What?! I said that?! I don’t even own a ladder. Anyway, I’m deathly afraid of heights. I’m not touching that ladder.”

(Note: it’s only a three foot step ladder.)

Me: “Okay, I’ll just get the boxes then. We’ll figure something out for dealing with the ladders.”

(Later that same day, another employee who is training the new hire on the cashes approaches my manager and me.)

Coworker: “Hey guys, I know you wanted me training [new hire] on the cash, but she just refused to work the cash based on the fact that she has a learning disability. She says she has dyslexia for numbers and count count or use numbers.”

Me: “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Manager: “You know, right before she went on her dinner, a French-speaking lady asked her, ‘Do you speak French?’ and she had no clue what the lady was saying. Apparently, she grew up in Toronto and never spoke a word of French before.”

Me: “This girl is killing me.”

Coworker: “I give her a week.”

(After a week has passed, the new hire has grown close to me and will only listen to me, but it is clear that she just wasn’t working out. We finally let her go eight days after starting. The next day, she calls our work.)

Fired New Hire: “Hey, where is the welfare office?”

Me: “Just up the street from us, I believe. Just look them up on the internet and—”

Fired New Hire: “Because I’m going to apply for disability. I’m retarded.”

Me: “…Uh, you are what?”

Fired New Hire: “I’m retarded. My doctor said so. I’m going to go get disability.”

Me: “Well, good luck to you then. But you do know that you need documentation, right? From a specialist?”

Fired New Hire: “Well, he did SAY I was retarded.”

(At this point, I hear a man, who turns out to be her boyfriend, in the back ground.)

Her Boyfriend: “You’re NOT retarded!”

Fired New Hire: *ignores her boyfriend* “Well anyway, I’m going to get my disability now. But, if that doesn’t work, I have a job interview tomorrow morning.”

Me: “Okay. Well as I said, the best of luck to you.”

(I hear a scuffle and her boyfriend comes on the phone.)

Her Boyfriend: “My girlfriend is not retarded. She’s just stupid and wouldn’t know the truth if it bit her in the butt. Please don’t let her quit. I know she’s one of your best, and—”

Me: “Look, sir, she doesn’t work here anymore. We let her go yesterday. I’m not even sure why she called me today.”

Her Boyfriend: “D*** it all to h***! I’m so sorry.” *hangs up*

(The next day, she calls back again and gets my manager. She asks to speak to me again.)

Fired New Hire: “So, I didn’t get disability. They said I wasn’t retarded enough and laughed at me. I think I’ll sue them for slander. My boyfriend is a lawyer, you know.”

Her Boyfriend: “I’m not a f***ing lawyer! I work at a gas station! Get your head out of you a**!”

Fired New Hire: *ignores her boyfriend* “But it’s okay. I got the job I interviewed for today. When I told them I’d been the assistant manager at your store they hired me on the spot! I start Monday!”

Me: “Um, honey I’m the assistant manager here. I have been for three years. You just lied to get that job and openly told me. Why are you even still calling me?”

Fired New Hire: “Oh, that is your job, isn’t it? Um… they don’t actually check references, do they? Because I put you and [manager] as my references.”

Me: “I’m hanging up now.”

(Thankfully they did call to check her references, something we should have done to begin with. Turns out she was a pathological liar who’d done the same thing to multiple companies in the area. Last I heard, she is receiving social assistance and working 10 hours a week at her boyfriend’s cash station. She still calls periodically to “chat” with me.)

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