I work in a store with twelve employees total. Seven have been here for at least two years, and the rest are high turnover. At this point, there’s no one over thirty-five, and for some odd reason, an overwhelming three of us — who happen to be among the seven — have a name that used to be popular but dropped off the charts by the time any of us were born. Let’s say the name is Gertrude.

The only person in charge of hiring is the owner, but we’re often handed resumes, which is expected.

One day, during a slow day with just a coworker and me working, my coworker is off helping an elderly woman around the corner and I hear a squeal.

Coworker: “Oh, my God!”

I hurry toward them to find [Coworker] with a sheet of paper and the elderly woman actually looking rather pleased with a somewhat cheeky smile on her face.

Me: “What’s going on?”

[Coworker] hands me the paper, which turns out to be a resume, trying to stifle a giggle.

Coworker: “She also wants a job.”

Me: “Oh? Well, we’ll leave it for [Owner].” *To the woman* “I’ll be sure the owner gets a look. I’m not sure what’s going… on.”

That is when I notice the woman’s name: Gertrude. Oh. Now I see what the big deal was. I look at the woman, who is grinning like crazy now. My coworker also notices her look.

Me: “Ah.”

Coworker: “Wait, did she know…?”

Woman: “I heard you had all the Gertrudes here. I’m retired, but I just have to work here now.”

So, now we have thirteen employees and four Gertrudes. She’s the only one who came on purpose — and is actually of the age you’d think someone named that would be. She’s eighty-one.

A young customer, maybe around sixteen or seventeen, approaches the counter. It is mid-afternoon on a weekday, so we’re not currently hugely busy.

Young Man: “Hi. If I… like… buy the dollar burger, would it be cool if I sit in the corner for an hour or so to fill out some forms?”

Me: “I don’t see why not.”

The young man hands over an eclectic collection of loose change and has just enough for the dollar burger plus tax. He then goes over to a quiet corner of the place and starts filling out what appears to be a stack of forms as thick as a Bible!

After an hour or so, he’s still diligently on it, and I feel like he might need a break.

Me: “Hi, would you like a coffee? On the house?”

Young Man: “Are you allowed to do that?”

Me: “We keep the pot going all day; it won’t make a difference if you get a cup.”

Young Man: “Oh, my God, thank you! Yes, please! My eyes are getting heavy over here.”

Me: “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing over here?”

Young Man: “College applications and job applications.”

Me: “Aren’t those done online these days?”

Young Man: *Looking a little embarrassed* “I don’t have a computer… or Internet.”

Stupid me, putting my foot in it. How privileged of me to just assume everyone has access to the Internet.

Young Man: “Yeah, I’m going to need some kind of scholarship or it’s just not happening for me, so I have to apply everywhere and really stand out. I can’t do these at home as my younger brothers are… a lot. And I need a job in the meantime to help out at home while I figure all this out. I appreciate you letting me stay.”

Me: “Seriously, it’s no bother! Take all the time you need! I’ll be back with that coffee.”

I get him his coffee, and he continues to diligently attack those forms.

A little later I step aside to deal with something, and a couple comes in to look over the menu. I don’t notice they’re there until I hear them talking among themselves.

Other Customer #1: “Hmm, I don’t know if I should get the grilled chicken or the burger.”

Other Customer #2: “I only have $5 and want to be healthier, so…”

I’m about to step back to help them when I hear the young man speak up.

Young Man: “The grilled chicken is 168 calories less than the burger, so that would be the healthier choice based on calories alone. They’re also the same price if you get the combo, which is still just under $5 even with tax. If you get them separately, then the grilled chicken costs 79 cents more.”

Other Customer #1: “Oh, wow, thanks. That really helps! You the manager?”

Young Man: “Uh… no. Just a customer.”

Other Customer #1: “Oh, just figured since you know so much and you’re sat there doing the paperwork.”

The customers make their well-informed purchase and then one of them calls over my actual manager.

Other Customer #1: “You need to hire that man to be a manager!”

They explain what happened to my manager, who laughs and agrees it’s a good story. I then tell him a bit more about who the young man is and why he’s here. My manager heads straight over to him and introduces himself.

Manager: “How do you know our menu so well?”

Young Man: “I’ve actually been coming here for years to do my homework. I kinda… have it memorized by now.”

Manager: “Would you like a job? I mean, just until you get into college?”

Young Man: *Exciteable* “Oh, my God! Yes!” *Calming down* “Uh… I mean, yes, please?

That young man worked diligently and perfectly all summer. After two weeks and his first paycheck, he brought in his three younger brothers (cute, but yeah… a lot) and proudly introduced his “work friends” to them before spoiling them with staff-discounted food. Apparently, the three of them had never “eaten so good.”

Also, he didn’t get a single scholarship offer after that summer. 

He got three.

This story is from a while ago now, and it is very much paraphrased and some of the legal language has been simplified to layman’s terms.

I am applying for a legal job that’s very much inside my profession — so much so that when sending in my resume, I include in my hobbies section my personal blog, which at the time is a relatively well-read website about the very niche section of law I studied. (This is before social media, and the average Internet user’s attention span was, shall we say, longer?)

I started the blog when I was in law school, and I thought including it when applying for this particular law firm was a good idea since they notoriously only hire graduates from my particular law school.

I am halfway through my interview, and I feel it is going well. I am answering the questions calmly and quickly, making sure to showcase my deep knowledge of the subjects. I am being interviewed by three partners at the firm, and one of them has been silently glaring at me the whole time. He finally speaks up.

Partner: “I noticed that on your resume you lied about your authoring [Legal Blog]. That’s not a good look.”

Me: *Momentarily taken aback* “I… I didn’t lie about that. That’s my blog.”

Partner: “That blog is written by an A.B. Smith.”

Me: “That’s a pen name. I am the actual author, and I have the credentials to prove it.”

Partner: “That blog is written by a man, and not by a fresh graduate.”

Me: “Can you please specify where in the blog it indicates the gender of the author or reveals any details about their age or professional status? If you’d just let me—”

Partner: “It’s just not a good look. It’s not a good look for us to consider hiring someone who tries to plagiarize someone else’s work, and it’s an even worse look for you.”

Despite my attempts to protest, this partner seems to hold a bigger sway over the other two, so the interview is cut short, and I am given the polite “Thank you for coming in” speech that means, “It’s a no.” I can’t be sure, but I also get the distinct vibe from this older man that he can’t be convinced that a young woman could write my blog.

When I get home, I admit that I am angry, and when I am angry, I write. I write up a blog about the interview. (I don’t name names, but I do name the law firm.)

I write about how ironic it is that a law firm dedicated to upholding the law has partners who are self-appointed judges, juries, and executioners who are disinterested in looking at the evidence.

I write about the disappointment of going to my particular law school in the hopes of working for this particular firm and that, despite my obvious knowledge of my material and my darn-good score when passing the bar, I have been dismissed because of one item on the “hobbies” section of my resume.

I also write about the hint of sexism in the experience, being very careful to word that section in a way that isn’t libelous (lawyer here!).

I put the blog up and go about my day.

A few weeks later, I get a call from a woman I have never heard of.

Caller: “Hi, this is [Caller] from [Law Firm that I interviewed for]. Is this [My Name]?”

Me: “That is me.”

Caller: “Great! Do you also go by [Pen Name] and write the [Blog]?”

Me: “What is this about?”

Caller: “I am calling to ask you to take down [blog about the interview]. It contains information that is factually incorrect, and we—”

Me: “Who is ‘we’?”

Caller: “I am calling from [Law Firm].”

Me: “Yes, but who are you, exactly? Are you a lawyer?”

Caller: “I’m a legal secretary.”

Me: “And who do you work for?”

Caller: “[Law Firm].”

Me: “Yes, again, I know that. Do you work for a particular partner?”

Caller: *Hesitantly* “I work for [Partner].”

As I suspected, this is the same partner who outright called me a liar.

Me: “Have [Partner] call me directly.”

Caller: “Well, he’s a very busy—”

Me: “Have him call me. I won’t talk to anyone else.”

I hang up, feeling my anger rising again but also feeling a shot of adrenaline from the knowledge that I’ve rattled the cage of the lawyer who wronged me.

Less than an hour later, I get another call. It’s the partner himself! Ignoring niceties, he jumps straight into his demand.

Partner: “Look, take down that hit piece. It’s a blatant lie and—”

Me: “Oh, so in the interview, you accused me of not being capable of authoring that blog, but now you expect me to take down something from that very same blog? Which is it? You can’t have it both ways.”

Partner: “Look, you’ve made your point, but the fact remains that what you’ve written is factually incorrect and—”

Me: “Tell me anything that’s written in that blog that didn’t actually happen.”

Partner: “You called me sexist!”

Me: “Did I mention you by name?”

Partner: “You know that’s not relevant—”

Me: “I know what’s relevant in a court of law. Do you?” 

Partner: “Look, can you please take down the blog? It’s been commented on a lot at [Law School], and it’s affecting our recruitment.”

Me: “Why? Are you worried it’s ‘not a good look‘?“

There is a pause. He recognizes the phrase.

Partner: “Take it down, or we’ll sue for libel—”

Me: “Send it to A.B. Smith.”

There was another pause. I decided right there and then that if this man apologized and admitted his mistake, I would gladly take down the blog and move on with my life. Instead, he just hung up, and I kept the blog up.

Over twenty years later, I still haven’t been sued.

I was laid off before Thanksgiving, so I am in a tailspin to find a new job. I found a consulting group via LinkedIn and applied. A week later, I got an invite to interview. 

On the day of the interview, I headed over to their headquarters, and the greeter sat me down in a large conference room with no windows. I was waiting for maybe twenty minutes. Then, I heard a knock, and a lady stepped in. This woman had the lowest-cut shirt I’ve ever seen in a corporate setting. I’m a woman, too, so I definitely understand pushing the boundaries of BS dress codes, but this lady had 75% of her ta-tas out. I was shocked, but at the same time, I was telling myself, “It’s pretty cool if they’re this lax about office attire.”

She introduced herself as the head of Human Resources. We exchanged pleasantries, and she started asking me typical questions about myself (where I studied, where I’m from, etc.) for about fifteen minutes. Then:

Head Of HR: “All righty, you ready to start the interview?”

Thinking I was already in the interview, I agreed with some surprise. Then, there was another knock on the door. It was a young man in his early thirties (definitely much younger than the HR lady). He introduced himself as the Vice President. I sat there thinking, “Oh, wow, I’m the same age as the VP.”

He started talking about the company, and after another fifteen minutes, he asked if I was (again) ready to start the interview. Again, with some surprise knowing I’d been here for an hour, I said yes.

Vice President: “I see you studied public health. I hope you understand that while we are a healthcare-facing company, we don’t necessarily ‘help’ people.”

Me: *Flabbergasted and shyly* “Oh, okay. I understand.” 

Vice President: “To start off, I have a question for you. Oil companies that’ve experienced the most fines tend to have the least environmental incidents (spills, etc.), while oil companies with little to no fines have more environmental incidents. Can you explain why the latter have been able to get away with it for so long?” 

Keep in mind… this was a HEALTHCARE CONSULTING GROUP. They had nothing to do with the oil industry. But at that point, I wouldn’t have been shocked if question two had been, “If you were to defraud the IRS, how would you do it?” 

I gave them sheepish answers to their questions (which all inexplicably had to do with evading government fines). At the end, I was definitely sure I wouldn’t be invited back… and deep down, I was fine with that. But to my surprise, they called me two days later for a second round. 

Against my better judgment, I accepted. I met with the same HR lady, now dressed like she was going to a nunnery after her shift with the most shapeless dress I’ve ever seen on a human. She welcomed me again.

Head Of HR: “Are you ready for the case study?”

Case study?! Literally nobody told me about a case study! We sat down in the same dungeon room as she administered it. To be honest, I had lost all interest at this point and was giving BS answers. I barely even remember the questions. I was completely disassociated.

At the end, they thank me for my time. This time for sure I absolutely knew I hadn’t gotten the job.

But then, they called me for a THIRD ROUND. I very politely declined on the phone, telling them I had been accepted at another job.

I hadn’t been. I am still jobless. But I’m not desperate, and this job threw every species of red flag in my face.

These days, I’m eating cereal at 3:00 pm, watching re-runs of “90 Day Fiancé”, and living off of my savings. And I’m okay with that.

I used to work as a librarian at a college. We were looking to hire a new librarian, and I went out to lunch with one of the candidates.

Candidate: “Who’s paying for lunch?”

Me: “The university.”

He ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. I told the Search Committee, “Don’t offer him the job. He won’t take it.”

They offered him the job. He turned it down. We lost the position.