Right Way/Wrong Way: The Job Interview
Right Way
(a small business office in midtown Manhattan; a gruff but likable boss sits reviewing some work. Presently, Timmy, a bright, young prospective employee, enters. He holds a copy of his resume and is nervous, but filled with energy and is "rarin' to go.")
The Boss: Ah, Timmy! Thank you for meeting with me today.
Timmy: Oh, sir, the pleasure is all mine. I have long admired your company, and I have always admired your snappy fashion sense as well.
The Boss: Why thank you! My suits are made by Jews. Now, I understand that you are looking for a position here. What sort did you have in mind? I'm afraid you don't have the legs for the secretarial pool! (knowing wink)
Timmy: Your humorous jape is most appreciated and has greatly put me at ease! But in all seriousness, I am looking for employment in the position of Businessman. I understand there are several opening in your Businessman department and I think I would be just perfect for one of those.
The Boss: Well, I don't know, Timmy... being a Businessman is very hard work. There is much sitting and drinking martinis and lording your status over the guys in the mail room. Do you think you could handle such a job?
Timmy: Sir, I'm glad you asked! I have numerous qualifications that I feel make me a perfect fit for one of your Businessman positions. I went to a college that didn't allow ethnics. I pledged a fraternity known far and wide for it's brutal, gruesome initiation tactics. I've married your daughter. And, most importantly, my father and your father saved each other's lives in The Big One, which, I believe, was some sort of war. So, as you can see, I am a candidate unlike any other.
The Boss: I do believe you're right, Timmy! You're hired! Let us celebrate with a beer stein filled to the brim with very old scotch.
Timmy: Well, just a touch, I only rarely drink. I am a responsible adult.
The Boss: You are! Now, buy yourself a briefcase and get ready to spend the rest of your life in this building, in that chair over there, one day blending into the next, until we force you out a year before your pension matures, leaving you to fight off roving bands of alley cats for the remainder of meat left on a discarded pork chop bone.
Timmy: Will I get a gold watch?
The Boss: You will get nothing and like it!
Timmy: Hooray!
The Boss: Welcome aboard, son!!!
Wrong Way
(a small business office in midtown Manhattan; a gruff but likable boss sits reviewing some work. Presently, Timmy, a bright, young prospective employee, enters. He holds a bottle of Cabin Still whiskey and is intoxicated, but filled with unusual bacteria and is "rarin' to go" to the bathroom so he can take a shower in the sink)
The Boss: Ah, Timmy! Thank you for meeting with me today.
Timmy: ...I don'... who... look, this is my bottle, okay... you're not... pee...
The Boss: You're wiping what appears to be axle grease all over my finely tailored suit. Will you please sit down. Please? Sir your pants are drooping in such a manner that I can clearly see your testicles. Please sit down... thank you, thank you for...
Timmy: I'm here for a jorn. A jorb. A... job. You got any of those?
The Boss: Yes, we have many jobs available here. What position did you have in mind? I don't think you have the legs for the secretarial pool! (knowing wink)
Timmy: I'll wear a dress if you want. I don't give a shit anymore. I'll make you feel good...
The Boss: That won't be necessary, but I thank you. Now, we have several openings in our Businessman department. Would one of those positions fit your needs?
Timmy: (no response; appears to have drifted off to sleep)
The Boss: Please, tell me your qualifications. Is that your resume?
Timmy: Well, it's a blood test. Does that count? I did not pass.
The Boss: That will be fine.
Timmy: I went to college, you know. Well, I trained to be a sandwich artist at Subway. I got fired for eating tomato slices directly off the line and in front of many, many customers. I went to a lot of frat parties in my early 20's... you could always steal VCRs after everyone got drunk. And I had a lot of brutal, gruesome sex with your daughter. Oh, and my father and your father were on-ship boyfriends during The Big One, which, I believe, was some sort of floating casino out in international waters. I'm not sure, as I drink a lot and most of my brain cells are on fire.
The Boss: You make many excellent points. However, I'm afraid, Timmy, that I cannot hire you at this time. You are clearly a diseased homeless person and you have already defecated in your chair twice. I would hate to see what sort of output you would accrue during a full day's work.
Timmy: There would be an extraordinary amount of feces, I can assure you. I am quite sick.
The Boss: I don't doubt that. Now, to show there are no hard feelings, would you enjoy a tiny drop of very old scotch on your tongue, to taste what the good life is like before I have my security guards toss you back into the streets, teeth-first.
Timmy: I appreciate your offer, but I think instead I'll stab you with this rusty piece of what was once a licence plate, then I'll use it to dig out your fillings.
The Boss: Well, thank you for taking the time to stop in for an interview. Please keep us in mind if and when you get out of prison.
Timmy: Hooray!
The Boss: Ouch! My intestines!!!
Conclusion
I think we've all learned a lesson here, and that lesson is this: The homeless will stab you in the stomach if denied employment in the field of business. Also, Jews make the best suits.
(a small business office in midtown Manhattan; a gruff but likable boss sits reviewing some work. Presently, Timmy, a bright, young prospective employee, enters. He holds a copy of his resume and is nervous, but filled with energy and is "rarin' to go.")
The Boss: Ah, Timmy! Thank you for meeting with me today.
Timmy: Oh, sir, the pleasure is all mine. I have long admired your company, and I have always admired your snappy fashion sense as well.
The Boss: Why thank you! My suits are made by Jews. Now, I understand that you are looking for a position here. What sort did you have in mind? I'm afraid you don't have the legs for the secretarial pool! (knowing wink)
Timmy: Your humorous jape is most appreciated and has greatly put me at ease! But in all seriousness, I am looking for employment in the position of Businessman. I understand there are several opening in your Businessman department and I think I would be just perfect for one of those.
The Boss: Well, I don't know, Timmy... being a Businessman is very hard work. There is much sitting and drinking martinis and lording your status over the guys in the mail room. Do you think you could handle such a job?
Timmy: Sir, I'm glad you asked! I have numerous qualifications that I feel make me a perfect fit for one of your Businessman positions. I went to a college that didn't allow ethnics. I pledged a fraternity known far and wide for it's brutal, gruesome initiation tactics. I've married your daughter. And, most importantly, my father and your father saved each other's lives in The Big One, which, I believe, was some sort of war. So, as you can see, I am a candidate unlike any other.
The Boss: I do believe you're right, Timmy! You're hired! Let us celebrate with a beer stein filled to the brim with very old scotch.
Timmy: Well, just a touch, I only rarely drink. I am a responsible adult.
The Boss: You are! Now, buy yourself a briefcase and get ready to spend the rest of your life in this building, in that chair over there, one day blending into the next, until we force you out a year before your pension matures, leaving you to fight off roving bands of alley cats for the remainder of meat left on a discarded pork chop bone.
Timmy: Will I get a gold watch?
The Boss: You will get nothing and like it!
Timmy: Hooray!
The Boss: Welcome aboard, son!!!
Wrong Way
(a small business office in midtown Manhattan; a gruff but likable boss sits reviewing some work. Presently, Timmy, a bright, young prospective employee, enters. He holds a bottle of Cabin Still whiskey and is intoxicated, but filled with unusual bacteria and is "rarin' to go" to the bathroom so he can take a shower in the sink)
The Boss: Ah, Timmy! Thank you for meeting with me today.
Timmy: ...I don'... who... look, this is my bottle, okay... you're not... pee...
The Boss: You're wiping what appears to be axle grease all over my finely tailored suit. Will you please sit down. Please? Sir your pants are drooping in such a manner that I can clearly see your testicles. Please sit down... thank you, thank you for...
Timmy: I'm here for a jorn. A jorb. A... job. You got any of those?
The Boss: Yes, we have many jobs available here. What position did you have in mind? I don't think you have the legs for the secretarial pool! (knowing wink)
Timmy: I'll wear a dress if you want. I don't give a shit anymore. I'll make you feel good...
The Boss: That won't be necessary, but I thank you. Now, we have several openings in our Businessman department. Would one of those positions fit your needs?
Timmy: (no response; appears to have drifted off to sleep)
The Boss: Please, tell me your qualifications. Is that your resume?
Timmy: Well, it's a blood test. Does that count? I did not pass.
The Boss: That will be fine.
Timmy: I went to college, you know. Well, I trained to be a sandwich artist at Subway. I got fired for eating tomato slices directly off the line and in front of many, many customers. I went to a lot of frat parties in my early 20's... you could always steal VCRs after everyone got drunk. And I had a lot of brutal, gruesome sex with your daughter. Oh, and my father and your father were on-ship boyfriends during The Big One, which, I believe, was some sort of floating casino out in international waters. I'm not sure, as I drink a lot and most of my brain cells are on fire.
The Boss: You make many excellent points. However, I'm afraid, Timmy, that I cannot hire you at this time. You are clearly a diseased homeless person and you have already defecated in your chair twice. I would hate to see what sort of output you would accrue during a full day's work.
Timmy: There would be an extraordinary amount of feces, I can assure you. I am quite sick.
The Boss: I don't doubt that. Now, to show there are no hard feelings, would you enjoy a tiny drop of very old scotch on your tongue, to taste what the good life is like before I have my security guards toss you back into the streets, teeth-first.
Timmy: I appreciate your offer, but I think instead I'll stab you with this rusty piece of what was once a licence plate, then I'll use it to dig out your fillings.
The Boss: Well, thank you for taking the time to stop in for an interview. Please keep us in mind if and when you get out of prison.
Timmy: Hooray!
The Boss: Ouch! My intestines!!!
Conclusion
I think we've all learned a lesson here, and that lesson is this: The homeless will stab you in the stomach if denied employment in the field of business. Also, Jews make the best suits.
posted by Clinton at 10:48 AM
7 Comments:
Yep. Lather up that ass. It’s interview time!
C-dawg. ---The wisdom from your blog makes me a better human being. I did not know it was the Jews who make the better suits. All this time I thought it was the ITALIANS
ha--jape! i haven't seen that word since my vocab book in 6th grade.
So, which of these scenarios resembles your job interview from Friday?
They both seem promising.
Nothing says 'good job' like a firm, open-palmed slap on the behind, Clinton.
Use a coaster. I interviewed a guy once who came in untucked, wreaking of cigarette smoke, and carrying a large Gatorade bottle.
And the most annoying part was that he put the bottle down on the table two inches from a fucking coaster. I could overlook the rest, but come the fuck on! COASTER!!!
Please don't ever get a job. Write a book instead. Right Way/Wrong Way To Go Through Life, As Told By C-Dog.
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