Interview Success! (of sorts).
Many moons ago, during a very brief spell of unemployment, I was in dire need of a job, any job. So I applied to a large advert in the Evening Standard on behalf of that esteemed firm estate agents, Foxtons.

The advert didn't say much, only that 'well-groomed, educated and career-minded individuals need apply.' Being a well-groomed, educated and and at that stage, career-minded chap, I called the number, received an application form and was invited to attend a 'Stage One Group Interview' at their Park Lane offices.

Suited and booted I arrived in good time and was ushered by the receptionist upstairs to an opulent boardroom overlooking Hyde Park. Upon entering, I was issued with a name-tag and told to 'mingle' whilst waiting for the other candidates to arrive. Laid out on the boardroom table was a large selection of drinks, there were bottles of cold beer, cans of Coke and mini Evian waters. Soon we were all present and correct and our 'interviewer' arrived. Looking the picture of a well-groomed, educated and career-minded fellow, he took to the centre of the room and addressed us all.

'Welcome to Foxtons! He cried, 'This is an informal interview, there will be no questions, no CV's at this stage, I'm just going to hang out with you for a while to determine whether or not you're "Foxtons Material". Please, help yourselves to refreshments and get chatting to each other.'

And that was it. He then sidled off the back of the room and with clipboard in hand, began to observe proceedings. Our group nervously began to interact, small talk was made as we all tried to figure out the purpose of this 'interview'.

'Take drinks!' Our host called out from the back. 'It's thirsty work this interviewing lark, make sure you stay hydrated!'

Strange. This was obviously a test - but what kind of test? Was it the drinks? If I took a beer would I be seen as an alcoholic and therefore not 'Foxtons Material'? What the fuck was going on here? Eventually I plumped for a beer. Most of the girls present took Diet Cokes and the guys either copied me and grabbed a Bud, or took nervous sips of Evian.

'Thank you very much!' Mr Foxtons declared, no more than 15 minutes later. 'You've all been fantastic, successful candidates will be called tomorrow and those unsuccessful will receive a letter in the post.'

And that was it. Slowly the group left the room - all of us more confused than when we'd started. The next day, I got a call. I'd been selected to return for a 'Formal Second Stage Interview' with an 'Area Manager'. When I enquired as to their selection process, I was told that all would be revealed at the following interview. So for the second time in as many days, I made my way back to Park Lane. This time I found myself sat opposite a very well-groomed and career-minded chap, who proceeded to grill me about all aspects of life. And finally, during the 'any questions' bit, I asked what had made me a successful candidate for this second interview.

'We look for strong sings of class, manners and social skills. You exhibited these during the first interview and we believe that you have the makings of a 'Foxtons Man'.

Turns out it was all about the drinks. Not what drink was selected - but how it was drank. I'd taken an ice-cold Bud and poured it into the largest glass available - as is my preference. Those classless, ill-mannered and socially inept imbeciles that had taken a Coke, Evian or beer and proceeded to drink directly from the can or bottle, well those people were apparently not 'Foxtons Material'.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Mon 25 Nov 2013, 13:42, 25 replies)

I don't even know what Foxtons are,
but I've read enough on this website such that nothing about this story surprises me.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Mon 25 Nov 2013, 13:48, closed)

don't they make biscuits or something?

( The Doveston haunted by the memory of his own amnesia, Mon 25 Nov 2013, 13:55, closed)

Who, Monster Munch?

( edjogs Collared doves are shit., Mon 25 Nov 2013, 16:08, closed)

Having had dealings with Foxtons on a number of occaisions
I can well believe this as they have all been chinless wonders who knew fuck all about what they are supposed to know about.

i.e. this is a house and it costs this much. the local schools are blah etc

They did know all about snorting cocaine and having a simply maaarrrrrvelous time.
(LetsGetDownToIt, Mon 25 Nov 2013, 13:49, closed)

Despite this
I do like their Glacier mints.
( Muns, Mon 25 Nov 2013, 16:19, closed)

Clickin dis

( skullfunkerry In case of implosion do not look into implosion, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 23:45, closed)

So, 'those that didn't want to burden the company with unnecessary washing up?'

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Mon 25 Nov 2013, 16:39, closed)

Slack jawed mouth breathers. I thought a Foxton man was overly camp and spent all their wages
on Old Compton Street.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Mon 25 Nov 2013, 18:56, closed)

"Monopoly: Pink Edition"

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Mon 25 Nov 2013, 19:43, closed)

Fuck off.

( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 8:09, closed)

I liked this.
I take it you save the greasy cock and uropilia just for when you're doing your creepy renditions of my posts then?
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 8:19, closed)

As you cannot be arsed BOB RAREHOM.
Many moons ago, during a very brief spell of out of the mental ward, I was in dire need of a job, any job. So I applied to a large advert in the Evening Standard on behalf of those crack pot social pariahs, Foxtons.
The advert didn't say much, only that 'well-groomed, educated and verstaile males need apply.' Being a well-groomed, educated and and at that stage, fussy bottom, I called the number, received an application form and was invited to attend a 'Stage One Group Timewaste' at their Chiswick offices. Suited and booted I arrived in good time and was ushered by the receptionist upstairs to the dreary boardroom overlooking Chiswick High Road. Upon entering, I was issued with a name-tag and told to 'mingle' whilst waiting for the other candidates to arrive. Laid out on the Walnut boardroom table was a large selection of drinks, there were bottles of cold beer, cans of Coke and mini Evian waters.
Soon we were all present and correct and our 'interviewer' arrived. Looking the picture of a well-groomed, educated to at least CSE and versatile, he took to the centre of the room and addressed us all.'Welcome to Foxtons! He cried, 'This is an informal timewaste, there will be no questions, no CV's at this stage, I'm just going to ogle you for a while to determine whether or not you're "Foxtons Material", he leered. 'Please, help yourselves to refreshments and get chatting to each other.And that was it.
He then sidled off the back of the room and with clipboard in hand, began to observe proceedings. Our group nervously began to frottage, small talk was made as we all tried to figure out the purpose of this 'timewaste''Take drinks!' Our host called out from the back. 'It's thirsty work this timewasting lark, make sure you stay lubricated!, Er, I mean hydrated'
Strange. This was obviously a test - but what kind of test? Was it the drinks? If I took a beer would I be seen as an alcoholic and therefore not 'Foxtons Material'? What the fuck was going on here? Eventually I plumped for a beer. Most of the men present took Diet Cokes and the stronger guys either copied me and grabbed a Bud, or the weaker ones sips of Evian. Trouble is, there was no bottle opener for the Bud, Christ I thought this is a test. I decided to not look a fool and casually took the bottle to the edge of the pristine Walnut boardroom table and wacked the crown top off. Everyone in the room was aghast.

'Thank you very much!' Mr Foxtons declared, no more than 15 minutes later. 'You've all been fantastic, successful candidates will be called tomorrow and those unsuccessful will receive a letter in the post.'And that was it. Slowly the group left the room - all of us more confused than when we'd started. The next day, I got a call. I'd been selected to return for a 'Formal Second Stage Interview' with an 'Area Manager'. When I enquired as to their selection process, I was told that all would be revealed at the following interview. So for the second time in as many days, I made my way back to Chiswick High road.

This time I found myself sat opposite a very well-groomed and versatile chap, who proceeded to grill me about all aspects of life! Finally, during the 'any questions' bit, I asked what had made me a successful candidate for this second interview.'
"We look for strong signs of mincing campness, pretty mouth and obvious power bottoms. You exhibited these during the first interview and we believe that you have the makings of a 'Foxtons Man', now get over here and suck my greasy cock.

"Oh the misery I felt as I knelt before him and performed oral sex on him with a tear in my eye and a raging hard on in my pants. I had arrived, the Mini One was mine and all the suits from Burtons I could handle. I had the last laugh, with my multi-million pound property portfolio - because I am Albert Marshmallow here me ROARRRRRR
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 10:37, closed)

www.b3ta.com/questions/jobinterviewdisasters/post2154463
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 10:47, closed)

I hope Alby doesn't say I didn't warn him

(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 12:13, closed)

I like this parody of parody.
Though I had to login and logout to reply, as the original Greasy Cock Master is ignoring me...yet still replying nonetheless.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 10:47, closed)

Many thanks.

( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 12:15, closed)

See my comment below.

(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 12:20, closed)

Yeah.
I'm having to use windows on the work laptop. The FF I've downloaded won't store *any* cookies it seems.
If I could be fucked I'd find out why. Then again I've got 2 external ssd's with / and /home on them just itching to be booted.

Soon as I can login properly, you're still not off the hook.

I'm impressed that quinchy put in that much effort tho!
(s0ckpuppet logging out to reply to you if you're not careful, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 12:19, closed)

I have no idea what any of the above means.

But since you've put me on ignore, you've gone out of your way to reply to me. Oh well, whatever gets your greasy cock hard.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 15:39, closed)

I had no idea either, but I was not man enough to admit it.

( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 18:51, closed)

Odd.
This seems to be a perfectly plausible story. Has somebody hacked Liebert's account?
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 9:15, closed)

Jeez shambles, just suck his cock and get it over with.

( Zuowan, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 15:24, closed)

I'm not putting it back in my gob until he tells me some sweet sweet lies.

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 15:42, closed)

My favourite lie is, I promise I won't cum in your mouth.
Ha, suckers - literally.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 18:51, closed)

Everybody loves vomit.

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 19:42, closed)