You're doing a great job, and you know that program so well, so here, you take care all of this shit for me, because I'm so impressed with what you've done so far. I really trust you, so I'm willing to let you do all the interviewing by yourself. If I can, I'll listen in on the telephone.
Really, you like, me? I will do that thing.
And now to absorb responsibility in the situation, I acquiesce, because it needs to get done, and if I let my boss's schedule determine interviews I will run myself into the ground. As much as I love teaching, I do not enjoy working 10 hour days to be stupid far behind on the things I need to be doing. So there, all whining aside, it's my own damn fault.
So let the vetting games begin. I was openly mocking one candidate because the person shortened Craig's List to cl in their cover letter. Phil said I was a) harsh and judgemental b) a dinosaur. (Is there any other kind?) He told me no one calls it Craig's List - it's not even capitalized on the website. Today, I called said candidate for an interview. After saying he couldn't write the address down, he asked me to email him. OK. Part of my elitist self was like, seriously, someone is trying to situate you with gainful employment, and you can't write it down? But with my lovely, forgiving better-half rattling around in my brain HARSH! DINOSAUR!, I smiled and said sure. Of course, I said. So I sent out the email, and he replied with a thank you. Unfortunately, that email said, "Alli,". He shortened my name. A nickname that I do not associate with work or work things, but a name that is home, history, friends, family and nostalgia.
This was my conversation with my computer screen:
What the what?!? You don't know me, motherf(*%#%!
I know it is a bit ridiculous, but it irked me. It really irked me. While I know it is impossible to retract my interview invitation(not impossible; I really want to write back and say my name's not Alli - TO YOU - jk about the inter., but I won't, because I do have some sense of propriety), all I can say is this person better poop the cure for cancer.
2 comments:
I think I probably poop the cure for cancer. The trouble is getting somebody to try it out ("apply directly to the forehead").
That's three strikes out of the gate, though (assuming you aren't a harsh, judgmental dinosaur. Let's not be hasty). Awesome.
I wouldn't worry about the possibility of interviewing somebody inept. I'm counting on you to not accidentally recommend his hiring against all of your better judgment. Who knows, it could be a hilarious respite from your other tasks. Then again, it could be an excruciating waste of your time.
GLWT!
Lordy. So insensitive.
The dude may not have been able to write down the address because he's got no hands. That's why you're "Alli." Two extra letters is like a lifetime when you're typing with your feet.
PS I typed this comment with my feet and my entire Thursday is shot.
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