Skip to main content

 

The Eclectic Pen - Interviews

By: Scott W. (Rev)   + 36 more  
Date Submitted: 12/29/2006
Last Updated: 12/31/2006
Genre: Humor & Entertainment » Humor
Words: 713
Rating:

What do I do in my spare time? I go to job interviews. For fun. It started when I was fifteen. My father made me apply for a part-time job I didn’t want, so I purposely blew the interview. I couldn’t just flip the guy off and walk out, my father would find out. So I gave myself a nervous twitch and grunted “applesauce” under my breath every minute or so, but otherwise treated it as if I wanted to be hired. I didn’t get the job, and I had so much fun that I didn’t complain when my father lined up a few more interviews. By the time I flubbed my fifth interview by pretending to fall asleep halfway through, I was hopelessly hooked. I’ve been to over four hundred job interviews in the twenty years since then, and I can proudly say that I’ve never given the same performance twice. I’ve gone a week without bathing, I’ve shown up nude, in drag, in pajamas, with Chinese takeout, holding a baby doll I pretended was real, on roller-skates, covered in blood, drenched in sweat, and even on fire. I’ve answered questions with questions, in pig Latin, with alternating French and German accents, mumbling incomprehensibly, shouting, crying, laughing at random, using long made-up words, and refusing to answer anything without a lawyer present. I’ve bragged about impossible feats, claimed to have invented things like staplers and milk, contradicted my resume repeatedly, pretended to be mute, made up a fake language, reacted violently whenever the word ‘opportunity’ was used, offered my children as cheap labor, hinted at sexual favors, glared menacingly, quoted non-existent passages from the bible regarding overtime, openly declared how I was too good to work there, mentioned ‘union’ and ‘strike’ in every other sentence, bribed, begged, threatened, pleaded, insulted and argued. I’m still torn between the subtle and outrageous approaches. Flinching every time the interviewer moves has its own quiet joy to it, yet you should see the look on a manager’s face when I hand him a deck of Trivial Pursuit cards and challenge him to ask me any question. It’s priceless. The ultimate moment of my little hobby came seven months ago, when I actually landed a job interview for a CEO position in a very powerful multi-national corporation. This was one of the big ones. I could tell you their name, but you wouldn’t even recognize it, that’s how big and powerful they are. I had written this horribly impressive resume on a lark, the kind of stuff that Trump probably sifts through every week, and I was so proud of the sheer enormity of the tapestry of lies and falsehoods weaved throughout it that I sent it out to a dozen high profile headhunter agencies, just to see the response I got. I’d forgotten all about it until I got the call for the job interview. You have no idea how exciting it was to walk into that boardroom. Seven extremely powerful men took turns shaking my hand and congratulating me on ‘coming this far’. They were taking me totally serious. I had come prepared with a suitcase full of fuzzy squeak toys, several dime store magic tricks, and a bright orange water pistol in a shoulder holster in case I wanted to give someone an ‘accidental’ glimpse to shake things up. But as I took a seat, calm and confident, in front of men whose combined value of tailored suits was worth more than my house, I had a brainstorm: the funniest thing to do would be to play it straight and see how long I could keep up the act. Not only didn’t I remember anything I’d written on the resume, I still had no real idea what the company did or the job entailed, besides the six-figure salary and stock options. I was so far out of my league, just sitting in that room was a joke. Could there be anything funnier than just playing along until they caught on that I was a total fraud? Yes, there could. They hired me. I have a corner office, and expense account that would ease the national debt, and a helicopter on standby 24/7. I’d laugh at the irony, but I’m not quite sure who the joke is on anymore.

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Scott W. (Rev)

Member Comments

---

Comments 1 to 3 of 3

Comments 1 to 3 of 3