A Kid’s Book I’d Like To See

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“Caillou Meets the Berenstain Bears”.a

Friar’s Random Management-Speak Generator

Riding the Busy Bus

Ask any 25-year-old “How’s it going?” and they’ll probably say “All right!” .    And they’ll tell you about the weekend at their friends’ cottage, or recent party, or their boy friend or girl friend.

But ask anyone over 35, and you’re almost guaranteed to hear “Busy!“, invariably followed by a litany of how they just don’t have time, the next three weekends are booked at the cottage and Justin has his karate championship next month and they’re getting their new roof put in and things are just SO “busy!”

And they seem proud of this.

But as you hear them talk, as your eyes glaze over and you resist the urge of throwing yourself into oncoming traffic, you feel sorry for these people.

Because you know they’ve crossed that middle-aged threshold:    they’ve embarked on the Busy-Bus.

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Yes, that famous mythical Busy-Bus, the mandatory mode of transport for double-income middle-class breeding-couples who  have chosen to follow the path of get-married-have-kids-work-your-ass-off-till-you-die.

There’s never a dull moment, on the Busy Bus.

The one-way journey begins with overtime work that interfere with evenings and weekends and family time.   But this is expected.   Because the riders believe “If you want to make the Big Bucks, you have to put in the Long Hours”.

(At least, that’s what all the other passengers tell them).

And they need the Big Bucks.  Otherwise, how could they pay for their SUVs,  2nd vehicles,  the McMansion homes,  European vacations, mid-life-crisis toys,  Gigantor-Screen TV’s and $8000 bathroom fixtures?

In fact, a 2nd income is required to sustain all this, so their spouse must also work.

Hurray!  Now the BOTH of them can ride the Busy Bus together.

But not before they wake up extra early every day,  and rush through breakfast and transfer the  kids to daycare.   (Which, by the way, consumes most of their 2nd income, but that’s besides the point).

At work  they attend seminars on their own time, called “Lunch and Learns”.    They become soup-martyrs,  working at their desk during meal-times while slurping their penance-bowl of broth.   They attend long meetings without bathroom breaks.  And they do this without complaining, because sustenance and bodily functions come second to putting in the Long Hours so you can make the Big Bucks.

And even THAT’s not enough.  Because they can (and are expected) to use their Crackberry to multi-task and check their emails while listening to the budget meeting approving next fiscal years’ deliverables.

And when the workday is finally done, they’ll pick up some groceries,  pick up the kids from daycare, cook supper, wash dishes, make sure the kids do their 4 hours of homework..and then, only THEN do they allow themselves to “relax”.

For about 15 minutes, before they collapse with exhaustion

Only to wake up the next day, get on the Busy Bus, and do it all over again.

For the next 30 years.

Until they retire or die.

(Whichever comes first).

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And the sad thing is,  the Busy-Bus riders can get off anytime they want.

Only they don’t want to.

Is it the weekend?   Should we take time to sleep in?  Go the beach?  Go for a Sunday drive?  Or visit gramma?

Heck, no.   Let’s bring extra work home.   Because it will show the managers we want to get ahead.   So we can get promoted, so we can make more Big Bucks, so we can buy more stuff.

But if we DO have time for something fun, like going for a hike or fishing,  let’s bring the CrackBerry along, so we can stay in touch with the office in case they call.

And it’s about time we got the kids involved in competitive sports.    They’re almost five now, and it’s our duty to teach them to ride the Busy-Bus just like Mommy and Daddy.

Hey, kids!   Now “Family Time” consists of your parents driving you back and forth to hockey games,  softball tournaments, competitive horse-shoe league, and organic Tai-chi meets.

And don’t forget the piano lessons, Black-smithing lessons, and Organic yogurt-making.

If a Busy-Bus parent has done their job right, every moment of their childrens’ leisure time is filled, scheduled, structured and organized.   (That is, when the poor youngsters aren’t stuck doing their 150 math problems and writing 800 page book reports)

Dont’ worry, though.   If little Krystin is lonely,  a “play-date” with a classmate can always be arranged.

We’ll try to pencil something in three weeks from now.

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Let’s say the Bus-Bus riders have managed to survive the first part of the trip without having a coronary.

Their kids are now teenagers, beyond the age where they need to be driven around and supervised.

Is everyone done with the Busy-Bus yet?

Heck, no.

Because that’s when the Busy-Bus riders decide that their perfectly acceptable house just isn’t good enough anymore.

So they rip it up and renovate, installing granite counters and stainless-steel appliances and Direct-Buy pretentious crap that cost more than their first home.

That’ll keep them occupied for the next few years or so:   living on a construction site, dealing with contractors and mis-matched floor tiles and selecting the right color imported patio stones.

Not to mention, having to work extra hours to pay for it all.

And if that’s still too easy, well, then there’s always the option of buying a summer cottage on the lake.

Nothing like a second home 200 miles away that needs constant repairs and maintenance to consume the next couple of decades worth of summer weekends and vacation-time.

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Eventually, though, the Busy-Bus riders will reach the point on the itinerary where the cottage is complete, the house is paid off and renovated,  and the kids have finished college.

Their career’s ending…they can now retire on a full pension.

Surely, NOW, they’ll slow down and finally start enjoying the fruits of your labor?

Nope.

Some riders STILL wont’ get off.

They’ll go back to the same lousy company they worked for, hire themselves out as a “Consultant”, and do the same lousy job they were so happy to have retired from.

Because they don’t know what to do with themselves, otherwise.

Not to mention that they’ll need the extra double-dipping money for that new fishing boat.  And the condo in Florida.  And that European trip they’ve been planning.

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And even when they finally stop officially working, they’ll continue to ride the Busy-Bus.

Because there will always be something more important than just sitting down and enjoying life.

Never mind that these sad folks have forgotten what it’s like to just wake up on a summer weekend and let the day go where it takes you.

Or what it’s like to enjoy spontaneous, unscheduled visits from friends.

Or to let oneself be unconnected, off the grid, and just listen to the sounds of  ones’ own thoughts.

That doesn’t matter to them.

Because if you ask them “How’s it going?”,  they’ll beam proudly and tell you:

“Busy!”

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Is this what we have to look forward to?

Is this what riding the Busy-Bus is all about?

Then let me off at the next stop, please.

Because I think I’d rather walk.

If Ski Resorts Were Run Like Your Typical Workplace

The ticket office would be located at the top of the hill, 500 vertical feet above the parking lot.

Nobody would be allowed on the ski lifts until they attended a “Pre-Ski Briefing” each morning.

The number of runs down the hill would be dictated by a Ski Permit, to be signed and authorized by the Ski Patrol, the Lift Supervisor and the Resort Manager.

Unfortunately, the Resort Manager would be in a 4-hour meeting discussing the color of the table-cloths in the restaurant.     So nobody would be allowed on the slopes until he got back.

By the time the Resort Manager got back, then it would be time for the Ski Patroller’s break,  so everyone would have to wait for yet another 35 minutes.

There would be signs posted every 20 feet, reminding everyone to be aware of the dangers of “Slipping and Falling” on the ice and snow.

Any time you fell down, or saw someone else do it, you would have to fill out a BPF (Butt-Plant Form).

Most chairlifts would only be 4 feet off the ground, to minimize the potential risk of falling from height.    Anyone using it to would need to be trained in Fall Protection.  They would have to wear a safety harness which must be clipped to an anchor point approved by a Certified Structural Engineer.

This would have to be done every time someone got on and off the chairlift.  As a result, you’d be lucky to get to the top of the hill by quitting time.

Taking this into account, Management would increase the Ski Permit quota from 10 runs per day to 27.    If these “Expectations” were not met, it would be considered “Unacceptable”.

80% of the trails would be bare, though, because Management would insist on the ski resort opening on April 1st.

A Consultant would be hired for $100,000.  It would take him 4 months to recommend that the hill be opened in December instead.

The Consultant’s advice would be ignored.

On the bright side, however, $2,000,000 would be budgeted to conduct an “Optioneering Study” to determine why all the neighboring ski resorts are doing so much better.

The “Optioneering Study” would end up being 300% over budget, and would conclude that the hill be opened even later, on July 1st.

The resort would continue to bleed money, and would ask the government to bail them out.

The grant money would be spent on a state-of-the-art office building and swimming pool, for another Optioneering Study.

The Shittiest Cafeteria in the World.

If I wanted to run the Shittiest Cafeteria in the World,  this is how I’d go about doing it:

The first thing I’d do is locate it where I’d be guaranteed a monopoly:  right in the middle of Butt-Scrape nowhere.  On Company property, where employees only had 40 minutes for lunch and the nearest restaurant down the road was 15 minutes away.

I’d also make damned sure the Company didn’t subsidize anything, so that I could mark up my prices exorbitantly.  In fact, I’d charge even MORE than that same restaurant down the road.

I’d have a huge mural showing brightly-colored photos of the freshest fruit and produce, glistening with morning dew….which would in NO WAY would resemble the soggy fare I’d be serving in plastic cups.

I’d use bread as filler for the hamburgers….but I wouldn’t even bother trying to hide it.   No…I’d deliberately leave the bread in 1/4-inch sized chunks, so that everyone can see them embedded in the burger, like so many grease-soaked croutons.

I’d make sure there were no ready-made sandwiches to eat, not like most places have.   This way,  anyone who’s in a rush would have to wait in line for 10 minutes, while we’d make each and every sandwhich on demand.    Which would also be more expensive than Subway.

By the way, if anyone wanted a slice of processed cheese on one of these sandwiches, I’d charge a dollar…(A DOLLAR)!

I’d start putting out pizza on the rotating heat-trays at 10:30 AM, so that by the time it’s 12 Noon, the melted cheese would have the consistency of a soccer ball.   (Providing there’s any pizza left, at this point.)

I’d make sure to foster feelings of mistrust with the customers.   If someone came to the cash with a Styrofoam container, I’d make them open it, to prove they were buying just the toast like they said they were, and not trying to pull a fast one.

I’d also post signs pointing out the napkins and straws and condiments are for “paying customers only”.  Just to make sure that anyone brown-bagging their lunch didn’t get any ideas.   (Never mind that there’s nowhere else on-site to sit down and eat…that’s irrelevant!)

I’d further discourage brown-baggers by having (maybe) 4 working microwaves, for a staff of 2500.    I’d post more signs, saying that if the microwaves were not kept clean, they would be removed.

I’d make getting free water as inconvenient as possible.    There would only be two available water coolers located at the far end of the eating area, and I’d only leave out thimble-sized drinking glasses.   This way, people might get fed up and would be more prone to buying my over-priced beverages.

If the toaster-conveyor-belt machine broke, where it only browned one side of the bread, I’d make sure it didn’t get fixed for at least three months.  Maybe four.

If someone came in at the end of the day, and there was tons of food in the hot trays waiting to be thrown out,  I’d still serve them a regulation-sized portion…and not ONE iota more.

I’d post a sign proudly stating that we apply FME Principles.     “Foreign Material Exclusion” is important, if you want to avoid getting thumbtacks in the soup again.

I’d make sure the doors and metal cupboards were locked at night, to keep the raccoons out of the food.  Because those varmints somehow always manage to break in.

One last thing.  I’d pay my staff shit.   So that they became just as jaded and burnt out as my customers were.

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How would you run YOUR Shittiest Cafeteria in the World?

Tell us why you’re such a loser

I remember the interview like it was last week.

I had applied for an internal  job within the company I was working for at the time.   I figured I had a good chance.

After all, I was on good terms with the Friendly Manager, who liked me and basically encouraged me to apply for the position.

Plus, it wasn’t like I was a newbie.  I had 12-years of successful experience,  including five at the company itself.   This job was more like a horizontal transfer, for a change of scene.

Unfortunately, the Friendly Manager was nowhere to be found at the interview.   Instead, he had put his 2nd-in-command in charge,  who interviewed me with two others.

Things were going well, until they asked the standard put-you-on-the-spot interview question:

“Tell us about a co-worker you’ve had conflict with, and tell us how you resolved it.”

Sigh.   Another one of those God-Damned Human Resource bullshit questions.

But I had been to enough interviews that I knew how to handle this one.

I gave a story about how I didn’t get along with a lab technician in a previous job.  Yadda yadda yadda.  How I approached her and asserted myself, and we ended up being very good friends.   Yadda yadda yadda. 

Always put a positive slant on things, I told myself.   Good job, Friar, you handled that well.

Then they asked:  “What’s the biggest disappointment of your life?”

I gave an honest answer, about how I was heartbroken not to have gotten an offer for a professor job I had interviewed for.    But again, I put a positive slant on it.

That was 6 years ago.   Yadda yadda yadda.  And looking back in hindsight, I think things worked out for the best, because I’m making the same money and I have normal work hours and balanced life.    Yadda yadda yadda.

Again, I thought I handled that well.

But the questions kept coming, from all three directions.

“What don’t you like about your present job?”

“Going back to that other job you mentioned:  what didn’t you like about your old boss?”

Oh, for Chrissakes.  It’s going to be one of THOSE interviews.

Again, I  tried to answer the best I could.    I talked about trying to apply “win-win” principles to bad situations.   I talked about learning from my experiences, and continuously trying to improve myself.

But they wouldn’t let up.   It’s like they were sharks circling around me, looking for a weak spot.

“Tell us what your faults are.”

WTF is with all the negative questions?

What are they going to ask me next:  “When did you stop beating your girlfriend?”

“Tell us about another conflict you had with a co-worker, at THIS company.   And how did you deal with it?”

At this point I was getting tired.   I tried to think of the least harmful example I could, but I ended up stammering.

Umm…there was this co-worker, he was difficult to deal with,  he kept distracting me,  I said.   I was being harassed and I ended up talking to my manager about it.

Then came the barrage:

“You said two things:  he was distracting you, and you were being harassed.  Which one was it?   Are these two separate issues, or just one? ”

“What did the manager do?   What did you tell him? ”

“How did you handle it?   How long did this problem last?   What was the outcome?  How was it resolved?

Wham!  Wham!  Wham! They just wouldn’t stop.

At a loss for words, I decided the only thing to do was to be perfectly honest.

I told them, the problem was resolved, when I left the department, and moved to another position.

Right then, and there, looking at the faces around the table, I knew I blew it.

Wrong answer.

At this point:   Piss.   Me.   Right.    Off.

If I didn’t’ know any better, I’d almost swear they had been trying to DISCOURAGE me from getting the job.

They obviously weren’t that interested in my qualifications as an engineer.

Or the fact that I’d been in charge of major research projects.   Or that I’d presented papers in front of hundreds of people at international conferences and had received major awards.

Or that I’d put in my time on the plant floor, supervising extremely hazardous work, responsible for the safety of others, where people could DIE if I wasn’t vigilant.

Or that I’d successfully met deadlines, satisfied clients, and always had good performance reviews.

No, obviously they didn’t want to hear about THAT.

What they were more interseted in was putting me under pressure, like I was some 21-year-old apprentice, and watching me squirm.

So that they could play their bullshit head-games with me.   Until they painted me into a corner and caught me saying something I shouldn’t have.

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Needless to say, I didn’t’ get the job.

In fact, some feedback I got afterwards was that they picked up on me leaving the other job, as a way to deal with my being harassed.  That apparently didn’t present itself very well.

Well, congratulations.

You win.

But just as well.

Because…if THAT’s they way they treated me in just the interview (when they were supposed to try to impress me)…I can only imagine what it would be like if I had started working for them.

Twelve Halloween Costumes for the Workplace

1.  Grunta-saurus Rex

Quite common, actually.  Suitable for Project Managers, bosses, etc.  who’s only “motivational” technique consists of growling and threatening their staff.   Costume comes with extra sharp claws.
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2. Slugs

Not a reflection on one’s work ethic.   Rather, a good reminder to the worker-peons on where they stand in the corporate food chain.  (Just above algae and nematodes, but below the lesser-vertebrates).
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3. The Procedure Queen

For those who live, eat and sleep for paperwork, but who couldn’t wipe their  own arse if there wasn’t a procedure to explain how to do it.

(Arse-wiping Procedure included, for $12.99 extra)
Thiss
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4.  The Walking Brain-Dead

For senior-manager types…
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5. Huge DoucheBag

Reserved exclusively for senior executives, who collect their gold-plated retention bonuses and stock options, while their company flounders and the regular staff get laid off.

Bag of money comes extra.
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6. The Phantom of the Office

For the self-imposed Soup-Martyrs, who forgo lunch hour and sit working at their desk, with nothing more to eat than a bowl of watered-down broth.

Costume comes with sack-cloth and ashes.
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7.  Anagram-Guy

A great way to recognize office idiots who can’t speak freaking English, unless the first letters of every word combine to make another word.
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8 . Soul-Sucking Vampire

Costume can also be used as a Human Resource Manager.    You decide.

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9.  Clunk-FuK™ the Mindless Safety Robot

Clunk-FuK™ likes to focus on the most trivial, painfully obvious safety tips, while totally ignoring the more serious issues.

Also great for helping train staff, during Safety Orientation Week.

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10.  Pavlov The Dog

Perfect the Wannabee Yes-Men, who slaver and drool at whatever comes out of their bosses’ mouth.
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11.  Dr. Spaztard the Mad Scientist

Are you a brilliant PhD scientist put in charge of multi-million dollar project?  Do you also have the social skills of Rain-Man?

Then THIS is the costume for you!
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12.    Corporate Drones/Worker Bees

Like the slug costume, a great way of reminding staff on where they stand in the grand scheme of things.

Buckets are included.  But you can’t keep the pollen.

Legitimate Ways to Passively-Aggressively Fight the Man.

Disclaimer: Use only if it doesn’t affect safety, and if you’ve reached that  Zen-like state of apathy-burnout and are willing to suffer the consequences.

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Take the elevator instead of the stairs, even if your office is on the 2nd floor.  (Don’t give the workplace any more energy than you absolutely have to).    You can do your exercise when you get home, when your “real” life starts.

If you’re a highly-trained professional, and you’re given a menial task,  just do it.   Relish the though of how much money these bosons are wasting,  paying your salary to do something a high-school kid can do.   And while you’re at it, take your time to make sure the job’s done RIGHT.

Turn down any “promotion” that requires more work but doesn’t increase your pay. (It’s never happened to me before, but I’ve seen colleagues do this, and I admire them for it).

If there’s a legitimate safety concern that could delay the project, run with it.  Notify your supervisors via company email (now it’s on record).   This is a double bonus, because not only will they have to deal with it, but you’ve done the right thing, morally and ethically.   This is one you can feel good about (even though you might end up in the dog-house).

If a toxic boss is making a jackass of themselves in a meeting because they don’t have their facts right, just keep your mouth shut and let ’em ramble on.   (Besides, you’d probably get scolded for correcting them).

When they ask for volunteers for extra duty (i.e. Emergency Steward or First Aid Rep), don’t.   It’s not like you’ll make less money.

During meetings scheduled during lunch, bring your food with you.   Make a point to eat noisily, and try to make a mess. (Sloppy Joes work best).

Any left-over cans of pop or juice from meetings are fair game.  Fill your pockets.  (They’ve  already been paid for…and who’s to say how many drinks you’re allowed?)

If there’s a real lame-ass task and you’re given a deadline (i.e. clean the papers off your desk by next week), do it JUST before the deadlines.  Not one minute sooner.

Politely decline company social events held during office hours, where you’re expected to use your own vacation time to attend.  (Seriously, you have GOT to be shitting me!)

Don’t be one of those martrys-poltroons who never take a break, and then retire with 26 weeks of unused vacation.    Spend as much time away form the office as you’re officially allowed to.  Use ALL your vacation days and free floater days and banked time, etc.    Never carry anything over, unless you’re planning on an even longer break the following year.

If you have decent benefits, and you’re having major surgery, don’t be a Jesus-hero.   Milk the sick leave as long as you can.  If the doctor says recovery will be four-to-six weeks, take the full six.  He’ll write you a note, and they can’t say anything.   The company will survive.  Besides, you’re entitled.

If you see a way of slightly improving something (i.e. making a spreadsheet more efficient), keep your mouth shut.    Let the Bean-Counters muddle their way through as they always have.   (Besides, they KNOW better…if you question their methods, they’ll resent you).

De-Recruit.  If a summer-student is considering working here permanently when they graduate,  candidly take them aside and tell them the God’s honest truth about this place.  Again, this is one you can feel good about.  You’re doing the kid a favor.

If you get scolded for chatting too much at work, then talk about work-related matters to the person who scolded you, and ONLY work-related items.   Be a robot in front of them. (After all, isn’t that what they wanted?)

Finally, don’t question, don’t’ argue, don’t’ THINK…  Do EXACTLY what they tell you. (And be careful to document it via email).

….Given the way some companies work, often that alone will be enough to grind the process to a screeching halt.

The Office Count-Down

Remember when you were five and you misbehaved?  And your parents would count to three?

“One!….Two!…..THR…”

But of course, they’d never get to three.

Because in those few seconds between “Two!” and “THR..”,  that’s the point at which you’d cave and start acting right again.

Because you’d be too terrified of what would happen if Mom or Dad ever finished the dreaded three-count.

(Probably nothing too serious, actually).

You were almost tempted to find out, though.    But it just wasn’t worth the risk.

And your parents knew you’d never call their bluff.   That’s why they used three-count was used so often.

But it only works up to a certain point.

Because as kids get older, they get smarter, and they start pushing the boundaries and questioning authority.

Idle threats used on a five-year will no longer work on an older child. He won’t feel respected, and he won’t respect his parents.

Good parents realize this, and they’ll adapt by using more sophisticated, age-appropriate methods of discipline.

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Fast-forward, 40 years.

At the Factory, they want everyone to fill in their Weekly Timesheet Forms (WTF’s)  by Monday Noon.    No exceptions.

Because the World will End.   Civilization as We Know It will cease.  If  the bean-counters don’t get their WTF’s by Monday.

And they’re going to enforce this.

If you miss the deadline the first time, your manager will have a chat with you.

If you miss the deadline the second time, then the Director will have a chat with you.

But if you miss the deadline for (gasp!) the THIRD time…(Wait for it…)

…then you will get a one-on-one chat with the SENIOR DIRECTOR-GENERAL GRAND-POO-BAH:  Lester McFester.

And BELIEVE ME (they tell us, trying to get us to tremble in our boots), you do NOT want to he having THAT chat with Mr. McFester!

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Sigh.

It’s like “One….Two…THR”,   all over again.

But I’m not five anymore.

One of these days, I’m  NOT gonna fill in my WTF’s.

Just to see what happens.

What’s Lester gonna do?

HIT ME?

How Companies will Assist you in Blowing Your Own Job Interview

Your footwear is wrong
Seriously.  For one of my interviews, the Head-hunter warned me to make sure my shoes were nice and polished.  Because the manager was “Old School” and he placed a lot of value on a man’s shoes.

So…never mind my qualifications, experience, or personality.   If my shoes are scuffed,  Mr. Chunder-Head will disqualify me.

An, sure enough, when I met him,  that’s one of the first things he looked at.   My SHOES…

Silly me.  Had I known this, I wouldn’t have spent all that time getting my PhD and accumulating all that job experience.   I coulda saved all that aggravation, and just bought some black Kiwi Shoe Polish.

You shake hands the wrong Way
Too weak, and you’re a wuss.  Too strong, and you’re aggressive.   The handshake has to be juuuuuuust right.

Jesus Christ….can someone please do an experimental study with a strain-gauge?    Help us determine the optimal pounds-per-square-inch of handshake pressure to apply, to save us from the Unemployment Line.

You order the wrong food
If the interview includes a lunch or dinner, don’t order anything too expensive, or you’ll look like you’re taking advantage of them.    But if you’re too frugal, you’ll look like a tool, like you’re someone that can’t fit in with the group.

Whatever you order, remember:  the price has to be juuuuuuuust right.

Oh, and God Forbid, do NOT spill any food or drink on your clothes.   Or you’ll blow it right there.

Interview meals (Shudder).    I’d rather play with live cobras.

Not being perfectly punctual.
Obviously,  being late is a big no-no.  But showing up too early isn’t good either.   Now you get to sit in the lobby and wait for your interviewers to arrive, while you look too eager and desperate.

Remember…your timing has to be juuuuuuuust right.

Show up exactly on time, but still get burned for it.
Happened to me once.   I met my interviewers at exactly 2:00 PM at a  pub. (I think it was calle The Thrusting Pig or something, but that’s besides the point).    Click and Clack were still eating, and apparently weren’t’ ready for me yet.

There was an awkward moment.  These two bosons almost seemed annoyed, and didn’t invite me to sit down with them.   They said to give them another 10 minutes or so, and went on talking among themselves.

(What?)   I was almost ready to walk out at that point.    But I decided to go to the bar for a pint of beer, and waited for them to come and get me.

When they did, they seemed pissed off:  How how come I didn’t’ bring my beer over and join them?

Oh yeah.  That was a GREAT start to a lousy interview.

Another interviewer blows your chances, and it’s not your fault
Once a junior engineer was assigned to take me out to lunch.   I just followed his lead (after all, he was part of the Interview Team).   But it turns out he brought me back late, which threw the whole afternoon interview schedule off.

Some of the senior managers were visibly annoyed.  The one who might have been my future boss  kept glaring at me.    It was obviously MY fault.

Right then and there…GAME OVER.

You don’t solve their lame-ass brainstorming question.
Picture this:  a man is in a boat, in a very small pond.  There’s a large anchor in the boat, which he throws overboard.  This will lighten his boat and make it float higher out of the water.  But the anchor will also make the water level in the pond rise slightly.

So what happens to the level of the water in the pond? Does it go up and down?

This is how my interview started.   The idiot woudln’t talk to me.  He just gave me pencil and paper to solve the problem, and left me alone for 15 minutes.

For THIS, I took half a day off work and drove 120 miles?   To play their cat-and-mouse game of “Let’s see how we can get this guy to work under pressure” ?

F**k.    Right.   Off.

Needless to say, I was annoyed enough, and didn’t remember my 1st year physics enough, that I didn’t’ solve the puzzle.    (Oooh, that’s probably a black mark against me!)

But at that point, I didn’t care.  I had already lost considerable interest in the company.

You have the nerve to ask about your travel expenses
Good companies will pay for your gas, meals, motels, etc.   They’ll even arrange for your lodgings ahead of time, and cut you a check for your gas before you arrive.

BAD companies will expect you to drive 200 miles to be interviewed, out of the goodness of your heart.   And if you ask about travel expenses, you get awkward looks:  the cheap bastards try to make YOU out to be the bad guy.

Hmph.  Just as well.  Who’d want to work for a company like that, anyway?

(By the way, this was the SAME company that gave me the anchor-boat problem).

You Interview the Anti-Christ
Have you ever had this moment:  You first meet your interviewer, you make eye-contact and shake hands…and in that first split second….it’s like a jolt of bad electricity?….it feels so WRONG?

Congratulations.  What you got there is the Interview Anti-Christ.    It takes on different shapes and forms.   But regardless, It has decided It already hates you, and you don’t’ stand a chance.

Yet It will still go through the motions, for what turns out to be the nastiest, most disastrous interview of your life.

Next time that happens, when I feel that bad chemistry, I’ll take out the Holy Water, and splash them.   If they hiss as it burns them, I’ll just turn around and leave.

You have a questionable reference
This has never happened to me.  But I’ve heard annectodal stories from a hiring manager.   If he’s interested in a candidate,  he’ll phone one of the references, and will ask them to describe so-and-so.

If the other person waivers (“…well….“) that would be enough to turn him off.   He’s told me that all it takes is that SPLIT SECOND of hesitation, and he wont’ hire that person.

Hol-Lee Crap.   If that’s all it takes…..wow.    It’s amazing any of us ever find jobs.

Be Born after 1960
Anybody today looking for work  knows how much the whole process sucks.    Getting a decent job can take months of planning, networking,  cold-calls..and that’s just to get an interview.

Woudln’t it have been nice to have grown up as a Baby-Boomer?    No c.v.’s, no pounding the pavement.

If you wanted work, you’d just show up to the Personnel Office,  fill in the job application form (in PEN), and you’d get hired on the spot, for the next 35 years, with full benefits and pension.

No advanced education needed, either.  You just needed your Grade 12  to apply, and company would train you.

And yet…these same baby boomers (now retired)  expect Senior Discounts at McDonalds.