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This is a question Job Interview Disasters

The boss showed me the shop floor, complete with loose floor tiles, out-of-date equipment and prospective colleagues eyeing me like a raw steak. "Christ, what a craphole", I said. I think that's the moment I blew it. Tell us how you didn't get the job.

Suggested by Field Marshall Dozington-Smythe (Ret.)

(, Thu 21 Nov 2013, 13:06)
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Truth or dare.
Everybody tells a porky-pie or 2 on their CV, don't they?

I used to live in a shared house with three other blokes. At the time we all worked casually and most of us had more than 1 job that was part of the "black economy". The rent was paid, there was always cold beer in the fridge and mostly the cone in the bong would be regularly packed. But 3 of us were seeking jobs that were a bit more than just "moving shit from 1 location to another" or "lugging heavy shit around". So we all had CVs. This being the 90's we all used to fight over who got to take their saved-on-a-floppy CV to a parents workplace or uni or even use the household Thinkpad to dialup and use electronic mail to send the file to someone we knew who had a printer.

One stoned and drunken evening, like all the others, we had an idea - whoever could put the most outlandish claim in their CV and either be questioned about it without the interviewer calling bullshit or even actually get the job, won.
We called it "CV Roulette". The winner not only got the respect of his peers (and the rest of the blokes at our local when we told them) but also a carton of piss and 1st dibs to try and crack onto the new skimpy on Thursday night. *Oh how naive we were - as if the blokes at the pub gave a shit!*

1st week; Nathan managed to convince some interviewers that part of his research at uni was involved in winning a Nobel Prize. As a Communications graduate. Jeremy bent the rules a bit by letting it slip in an interview that his family were a title holders from a European kingdom. And I apparently was seconded to an elite Army unit at one point during my 'career' as an NCO in cadets.

And so it went on with the claims getting bigger and more elaborate.
None of us got our dream jobs out of it mind you, but upon getting short-listed and then having had our referees contacted to verify our details a few of us fell by the wayside.
The winner by our accounts was Anthony who had claimed both on his CV and in interview that he was the grandson of Prince Albert's bastard child.
The interviewer was apparently a massive Anglophile, history buff and royal family watcher.
He got the job. Working as a level 2 data entry operative at Main Roads Dept.
EDIT: We got him a slab of Export for his troubles. We drank most of it as we either finished early or usually cracked a tinny for brecky.
(, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 10:43, 6 replies)
Alright Drongos!

Way back when, a couple of years before me 32nd birthday, I used to share a hovel with a bunch of smack-addict rent boys. The fellas didn't mind me crashing there as one of their 'clients' had a fetish for having large, hairy, greasy-cocked retards piss all over them whilst he stabbed himself with used syringes. Best thing about this job was that the guys always kept a few beers in the fridge for me - just so I could fill meself up ready for a pissing session whenever that particular punter turned up.

After five years of this lark I got a bit bored. The piss-freak customer stopped coming and the guys said they'd have to kick me out unless I could find money for rent. Not sure of what to do, they suggested I type a CV and get it out there. This being the early 70's, I had to fight to use the daisy-wheel typewriter and paper was hard to come by.

It took me a few months but eventually I'd knocked up a CV on the scraps of used toilet paper that my housemates threw at me. I carefully packaged up my resume and posted it through the door of the local bank. And would you believe it? I got a bloody job!

Turns out the boss of the bank was the punter who liked it when I pissed on him. For three glorious year I lived in a cupboard in his office, he fed me beer and donuts, and all I had to do, just five times a day, was stand over the freak, piss on him and watch whilst he stabbed needles into his not-so-greasy cock.

Ha! Bet none of you can beat THAT job!
(, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 11:21, closed)
'Kin 'ell mate!
Wouldja let me fucken finish?

Talk about spunking down the emu's throat ffs!
(, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 11:24, closed)
This is 'Misery' right?

(, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 12:50, closed)
It certainly feels like it.

(, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 13:41, closed)
Not so much hobbled by crazed fan
as Golden Showered by man with genital hygiene issues.
(, Wed 27 Nov 2013, 3:22, closed)
He got a job he applied for?
What a disaster.
(, Tue 26 Nov 2013, 14:02, closed)

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