The Daddy Of Bad Job Interviews

, , , , | Working | November 27, 2019

(My coworker and I are working at our local convenience store and are preparing to close for the night, as it’s almost 11:00 pm. A while ago, we were hiring some help, but we’ve already hired one. Two regulars, a man and a girl I recognize, come in. She is notoriously timid and never looks at us, does not respond, and looks fourteen. The man, her father, comes up with her, quiet and in tow, to my coworker at the register.)

Father: “Well, hi there. I heard a whisper that you’re hiring?”

Coworker: “Yeah, we were last month, but—”

Father: *interrupting* “Great! My daughter here…” *gestures towards the girl who is just standing there* “…is very interested!”

(He then proceeds on a loooong, awkward story of how her studies just didn’t fit and she now is ready for us! All this is without letting us say that, no, we are not really hiring anymore.)

Father: “She is ready to start tomorrow!”

Coworker: “Um… how old are you? 

(My coworker is directing the question to HER, as it’s apparent she is the one applying with papers in hand. Her father does not let her answer.)

Father: “19!”

(I already know she’s not a good fit for this job, as her dad applying and doing all the talking is not a good impression.)

Me: “I can just take those papers and place them in the office.”

(She barely looks at me as I take her resume. Her father, obviously not liking that, looks at me and then around me.)

Father: “I’ll just talk to the boss. Where is he?”

Me: “Oh, he’s not here; he went home at three.”

Father: *genuinely surprised* “Oh… Well, give me his number and I’ll introduce myself.”

(Yes, he said himself, not the daughter. I walk away due to the sheer awkwardness and later come back to my coworker.)

Coworker & Me: *in unison* “Yeah, no… Not happening.”

(I’m truly sorry for the girl but if you want a job, try not to bring your overbearing father… and maybe introduce yourself. Or say anything at all. That would be a great start.)

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Seizing Up At The Facts

, , , , , , | Working | November 27, 2019

(I am working as a paramedic at a local casino and am called to a patron having a seizure. By the time I get there, the patient is alert. He says he has epilepsy and forgot his medication this morning. I check his vitals and clear him to continue along. However, about twenty minutes later, I get called to the security office and find the patient there.)

Security Officer: “This guy is trying to scam us! Look at this tape!”

(The tape shows the patient stop walking suddenly, look around, lay on the ground, and then start seizing. The guy already signed to clear the casino of any liability when he refused transport.)

Me: “Yeah? So?”

Security Officer:So?! Look at that! He obviously faked the seizure so he can sue the casino!”

Patient: “I’m not suing; I already said that. I felt the seizure coming, so I laid myself down to try to minimize any harm to myself.”

Security Officer: “Bulls***! You can’t feel a seizure coming on! I’ve seen loads of medical shows, and seizures just happen randomly, or are always faked! Tell him, Doc.”

Me: “Actually, Mr. [Patient] is right. Most epileptic patients have an ‘aura’ or sense that they’re about to have a seizure.”

Security Officer: “D*** right if I believe that hockey! I’m calling the local PD to take him away, and a real ambulance to prove I’m right!”

(It took me and the ambulance crew that was called 20 minutes to convince the security officer and his supervisor that the guy was not trying to sue the casino. Once the local PD arrived, they told the patient he was free to go, and, if he wanted, could now sue the casino for unlawful detainment!)

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Starting A Flame War Below The Belt

, , , , , | Related | November 27, 2019

(It’s the day of a major American holiday and my sister and mother are spending the day cooking that evening’s dinner. With limited counter space, four full burners, and a massive bird in the oven, things get messy and a little smokey. As the afternoon progresses, we assume the smoke is just from all the cooking until my sister opens the utility room door and a cloud of smoke billows out. The culprit is a pile of laundry which has been quietly smoldering. My sister had tossed a rag she used to wipe up some grease on top of the pile earlier, not noticing that one of the corners had caught fire on the burner. The laundry is hastily evacuated outside, doused with water, and stomped on for good measure. It’s as we’re looking to see if there’s anything left to put out that my sister spots something else.)

Sister: “Hah, I found what started the fire!”

(My sister lifts up a blackened elastic band. All of the cloth has burnt away but I recognize the band as belonging to a pair of my underwear.)

Mom: “[My Name], what have you been eating?!”

(My family has never let me live down the day I nearly burnt the house down with a pair of dirty undies.)

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Just For That, We’re Adding An Hour  

, , , , | Right | November 26, 2019

(I’m the assistant manager of an auto repair shop. A regular customer of mine calls on a Saturday afternoon, one of our busiest days of the week.)

Customer: “Hi, [My Name], I just bought a new car. Is there any way I can bring it in today for an inspection?”

Me: “Is it a new, new car? How many miles are on it?”

(If the car is brand new, it will typically take a lot less time.)

Customer: “No, it’s a 2017; I think there’s about 49,000 on it.”

Me: “Okay, if you can bring it down soon and drop it off with us, we can get it done today, but we’ll need to keep it for at least a few hours. Of course, we can get you a ride home and pick you up when it’s done.”

Customer: “All right, I’ll be there soon.”

(When he shows up to drop the car off, I am not at the counter, and he talks to our general manager.)

Customer: “Do you think this is going to take long?”

General Manager: “Well, [My Name] said you were going to drop it off, right?”

Customer: “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure she said it would only be an hour to an hour and a half.”

General Manager: *who had been standing three feet away when I took the customer’s call* “I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure she told you at least a few hours. Let me get you that shuttle ride home.”

(It amazes me how many people try things like that; do they really think we don’t talk to each other?)

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Getting High On The Thought Of Drugs

, , , , , | Working | November 25, 2019

(I’m sitting at the front desk of an assisted living facility, having just accepted a delivery of medication for a resident. One of my coworkers is standing at my desk messing with her own paperwork. I call another coworker on the phone to come get the delivery.)

Me: “Hey, [Coworker], I have drugs.”

Coworker: “Sweet! I love drugs! I’ll be down in a minute to get them. Yay, drugs!”

Me: “Yay, drugs!”

(Our other coworker stopped doing her paperwork to stare at me and I cracked up. The coworker I called and I have worked together for almost five years, so we’re on pretty friendly terms. The other coworker only started a few months ago. It’s okay; she’ll catch up.)

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