Needs A Recruiter Rebooter, Part 2

, , , , , | Working | December 20, 2017

(I’m looking for a new job and I have made several applications in a job portal. Most jobs available are put up by companies hiring through recruitment agencies for anonymity. I receive several calls and in them, I explain that I am currently working and need some time to arrange for leave to go for interviews. Most recruiters understand this and give me sufficient time to arrange for leave. One recruiter, however, does not.)

Recruiter: “Hi, [My Name], congratulations! My client wants to see you tomorrow morning for an interview. Can I put you in for 11:00 am?”

Me: “[Recruiter], I’ve mentioned that I need time to arrange for leave or time off. It is now 5:55 pm and I’m off work in five minutes. My boss will never agree to let me take leave tomorrow morning.”

Recruiter: “What about 2:30 pm? I can tell the client that you’ll be in at 2:30 pm.”

Me: “[Recruiter], I can’t do that, either. My boss has a meeting in the morning and will only come in in the afternoon. I need to update him on all the ongoing projects.”

(While I am on my way home, the recruiter calls again.)

Recruiter: “[My Name], the client has specially opened another interview day for you the day after. Can you make it?”

(I check in the morning and manage to get permission for a half-day off. I receive a text from the recruiter one hour before the interview is scheduled, when I am halfway out the door.)

Recruiter: “I’m sorry, but the interviewer is down with fever. Today’s interview is cancelled. We will let you know when another interview can be scheduled.”

Me: “Noted; however, next week is not possible as my boss will be away the second half of the week, which means that I have to clear everything before he leaves. I’ve some submissions due by the end of the week, but I only have half the week to complete them, so my time is quite tight. When my boss is not around, he expects me to be in the office to hold the fort, so I cannot take leave then.”

Recruiter: “Noted.”

Me: “If the following week is too late for your client, then thanks for forwarding my resume to them for their consideration.”

(The following Monday…)

Recruiter: “[My Name], my client still wants to see you. Can you come down tomorrow? Any time you want.”

Me: “[Recruiter], I’ve already said that I cannot make it this week. If your client wants to see me, they have to wait until next week.”

Recruiter: “What about Wednesday?”

Me: “[Recruiter], forget it, then. Thanks.”

(On Friday, the recruiter messages again.)

Recruiter: “I just wanted to update you: the client will be going with other candidates, as they are looking for someone urgently and cannot afford to wait for you.”

(I receive a call on the Monday after.)

Recruiter: “[My Name], the client still wants to meet you. Any time tomorrow will be fine.”

Me: “I thought they didn’t want to see me as they needed staff urgently and couldn’t wait for me?”

Recruiter: “Well, only one person was shortlisted for the second interview.”

Me: “I think I’ll pass on this opportunity, thanks.”

Recruiter: “But they thought you were good! They want to see you, any time, at your convenience.”

Me: “[Recruiter], as I said, I need time to arrange for leave. I’m also arranged for another interview tomorrow, and took leave in the afternoon for that. I can’t possibility extend my leave last-minute. Anyway, thank you for your time.”

Recruiter: “But can’t you go over since you’re already taking leave?”

Me: “No, I took leave for this company I’m interviewing with because they gave me ample time to make arrangements. I’m not going to decrease my chances of getting a position at that company because I’m rushing to make it for another interview that I don’t have much interest in anymore.”

Recruiter: “What? Why?”

Me: “[Recruiter], it’s not like this is the first time; every single time, you want me to drop everything and rush over. Even if the timing is at my convenience, the day itself isn’t. I have made it clear over and over again that I am currently working and need time to arrange for leave or time off. It isn’t as if I didn’t tell you and then sprung this need for time to arrange my leave at the last minute. Frankly, if this is the way they do things over there, I don’t think I’ll be happy working there when I’m already encountering so many problems before I even go for an interview.”

Recruiter: “But, but, can you at least think it over? You have my number, right? So, you can text me tomorrow.”

(Ugh. I don’t know how many times I must say no, politely, before she gives up.)

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I’ll Be Home For Christmas… But Will Anyone Else?

, , , , , | Related | December 20, 2017

(Usually, I go home for Christmas every year, but this year I have to work over the festive period. To make up for this, my mum suggests getting everyone together for an early Christmas so we can at least have some time together. I buy an expensive train ticket down south and buy everyone’s presents. However, a few days before I am about to leave, my mum suddenly drops a bombshell on me.)

Mum: “We’re looking forward to having you down this weekend.”

Me: “Oh, me, too. It will be wonderful have a little Christmas get-together.”

Mum: “But you know you’re sister isn’t coming, right?”

Me: “Err… No. Why not?”

Mum: “Oh, she’s going to meet up with a friend that day.”

Me: “That’s a little annoying. I thought you said she was coming! Well, at least [Brother] and [Brother’s Fiancée] will be there, right?”

Mum: “Oh, no. He’s not coming!”

Me: “WHAT?!”

Mum: “He’s got plans with friends; you know how it is.”

Me: “ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!”

Mum: “What’s the matter?”

Me: “Mum, there’s no point me coming home now!”

Mum: “Oh, yes. I suppose not!”

Me: “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

Mum: “You can still come, though.”

Me: “What for? No one’s going to be there!”

Mum: “Dad and I will be here!”

Me: “That’s not the same. I’m not going to get a family Christmas this year; I’m working!”

Mum: “Well, can’t you just go to a friend’s house or something Christmas Day?”

Me: “I’M WORKING! Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Mum: “I thought I did.”

(For the next few minutes, my mum and I go back and forth; she claims to have told me and I confirm that she said nothing. Finally, after mentioning it for the umpteenth time I finally snap.)

Mum: “Are you sure I didn’t tell you?”

Me: “NO… YOU… DIDN’T!”

Mum: “There’s no need to shout!”

Me: “Mum, there is every need to shout! I’ve just spent loads of money on a really expensive ticket and a bunch of presents, which you are now telling me I won’t be able to give or receive until months after Christmas! Secondly, you told me we were going to be getting together because I won’t get a family Christmas this year, and now, a couple of days before going, you suddenly tell me no one is showing up! I think I have a few reasons to be angry!”

Mum: “Are you sure I didn’t tell you?”

(At the end of my rope, I hung up on her. Afterwards, I got a bunch of messages from her about my “rude behaviour,” informing me that she was “waiting for an apology!” Early the next day, my dad called me, extremely apologetic about it. Apparently, my mum hadn’t actually organized anything and had just casually mentioned that I “might be dropping by on the weekend.” Thankfully, my brother and sister were very understanding and agreed to come for the early Christmas. My mum looked very embarrassed throughout the dinner, though.)

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Peppered With Allergies

, , , , , , | Working | December 20, 2017

(I’ve been asked to cover a shift in the produce department. Since I’ve never worked produce before, I’m given pre-loaded carts and told to stock them. I’m highly allergic to bell peppers, and several peppers in the box are broken. I try to stock them anyway, but I can feel my throat starting to itch and my hands are turning red.)

Me: “Hey, [Coworker], could you possibly take over with the peppers, so I don’t die? I’ll stock those strawberries, and take that cart back when there aren’t peppers on it anymore.”

Coworker: “Okay.”

(I put out the boxes of berries and look up to see my coworker stocking squash, with full boxes of peppers still sitting on top of the cart.)

Me: “Hey, [Coworker], um… I’m happy to stock the zucchini. I really just needed your help with the peppers, because I’m allergic.”

Coworker: “You’re allergic to peppers? I thought you were just trying to get out of doing your job.”

Me: “What? No! I stocked all those berries and stuff; how is that not doing my job?”

Coworker: “You pawned this full cart off on me.”

Me: “No, I asked if you would mind just stocking the peppers. I haven’t handled them a lot because I’m allergic. I didn’t realize that just touching them could cause a reaction.” *I hold up my hands*

Coworker: “Huh, okay. You should tell someone you’re allergic. That’s a good reason; you could avoid getting fired that way.”

Me: “Fired? What? Wait, were you going to complain about me swapping with you? I asked you nicely. Also, what did you think I meant about dying?”

Coworker: “I thought you were kidding.”

Me: *speechless*

(I told the manager I couldn’t take the risk of covering in produce anymore.)

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Mystery Solved

, , , , , | Working | December 19, 2017

(I am 18 years old but I have a job as a mystery shopper. The people who run the mystery shopping company like to use me because people do not expect 18-year-olds to be mystery shoppers. I go into a department store to evaluate them. I overhear some workers gossiping about a possible mystery shopper coming in the next few weeks, without realising it is me. None of them greet me as they are too busy gossiping, which I note in my phone as a strike against them. An older gentleman with a small notebook and pencil comes into the store, and all the employees rush to greet him, leaving me on the sidelines.)

Me: “Can I see this in a size eight?”

Employee #1: “Yeah, in a sec, hon.”

(She ushers the older man to a chair and basically waits on him hand and foot. I wander around the store waiting for another employee to notice me, but none of them do.)

Me: *to another employee* “Sorry, can I get this in a size eight?”

Employee #2: “Can’t you see I’m busy? I’m helping that gentleman. Shouldn’t you be in school, anyway? You can get in trouble for truancy.”

(I end up being able to pull an employee away by threatening — very loudly — to call corporate. They do not want the customer who they think is the mystery shopper to overhear me, so they send what seems like the youngest employee to help me.)

Me: “Finally. Can I see this in a size eight?”

Employee #3: “Are you sure you’re an eight?”

Me: “Yes.”

Employee #3: “Let me measure you.”

(After I turn out to be an eight — go figure, but she gets points for going out of her way to help a guest find the right size — she goes to the back room for ten minutes — I time it — and comes back with the right shoe but the wrong colour.)

Me: “Um, I wanted this in blue.”

Employee: “Oh, yeah, we ran out of blue last week.”

Me: “Did you know that when you went into the back?”

(While I am talking, the employee is biting her lip and looking over my shoulder to view the older man. As part of my mystery shopper evaluation, I HAVE to buy something from the store. I do love the shoes, so I end up buying the colour she gave me. Once she hands me my shopping bag, she turns to leave, but I stop her.)

Me: “By the way, he’s not the mystery shopper.”

Employee: “How do you know?”

Me: “How do you think?”

(Her jaw dropped as I walked out of the store. Oh, and they failed the evaluation.)

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The Daddy Of All IDs

, , , , | Working | December 19, 2017

(My husband, daughter, and I are going to an 18-and-over show for our daughter’s 18th birthday. My husband is 6’8″, while I am barely 5 feet tall and am often mistaken for being much younger than I am. We are stopped at the door.)

Usher: “Sorry, sir, you can’t bring your kids in here. It’s 18 and up.”

Husband: “That’s okay; we’re all of age.”

(The usher looks annoyed.)

Usher: “Can I see some ID, then?”

(We all present our IDs. The usher looks at mine, then at me, then at my ID again, and his jaw visibly drops.)

Usher: “This is real?”

Me: “Yep.”

Usher: *to husband* “You’re not their dad?”

Husband: “I’m her dad.” *points to our daughter* “But that’s my husband.” *points to me*

Usher: *hands our IDs back and waves us in, speechless*

Daughter: “I think we just broke his brain.”

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