I Don't Think I Want To Work At Douchebags 'R Us Anyway

Had a really simple job today; just a guy who had a job interview that didn't go well. We'll call him Ken. So Ken ends up in a bar, drowning the sorrows, or at least holding their heads down in the water long enough to scare the fuck out of them. I think that sounds like a more appropriate metaphor anyway. You can never kill your sorrow completely, just contain it, hold it off or drive it away. Think of every beer as one head dunk, like in the war movie torture scenes. And be reasonable, because if you do it too often, you'll become a monster.

Anyway, that's a nice segway, because he described the interview like it was torture. No questions about his experience or skill, just a lot of figurative stress questions, scenarios he had trouble speaking to because they didn't really relate to his his experience. "Give an example of how you handled a project going awry because of an internal mistake."

"He wasn't being very specific," said Ken, who writes for a travel magazine. "And every time I would try to answer, like, 'Well, one time a tourism company wouldn't approve the fact check on a coverage article by press time-"

"No, I mean something internally."

"We just don't have issues like that. We sit and write. And every time I tried to think of something, he'd go, 'No, that's not the sort of thing I mean.'"

"Look at it this way," I said, "Would you want to work for someone like that?"

"Actually, no. I'm just really unhappy where I am."

"Yeah, that happens. But that doesn't mean everywhere else you go, it's gonna be better. You're better off holding out for a better opportunity then working for that fucktard."

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, not a hundred percent sure, but at least in a better place than when I found him. I still felt bad for the guy. Not everyone can have a dream job like I do.