My first job
"We have to talk" said my boss. It was the end of my three-month trial period at a chain of bookshops named Wankerstones. I had not taken kindly to being paid the mimimum wage to stack shelves, and my first class degree was not best utilised by goth retards asking me questions like "Have you got anything on witches?" Thus:

Boss: Fother, we're very confused. We interviewed 20 people and you were by far the best candidate. You seemed fascinated with being a bookseller.
Me: Yes?
Boss: But it seems like you hate the job. You're rude to customers, you hate the team and you seem moody all the time. In the interview, you were so full of life.
Me: It. Was. An. Interview.
Boss: What do you mean?
Me: You wanted a bookseller. That's what I pretended to be.
Boss: [Chokes} Pretended??
Me: Of course. Why would someone of my intelligence want a moronic job like this unless I needed the money? The whole point of an interview is to pretend that you want the job and to convince the interviewer that you do.
Boss: But you seemed so enthusiastic!
Me: About doing a poorly paid, unskilled job? In retail. Working with failures? I lied.
Boss: But ....but...
Me: It was all a tissue of lies. I couldn't give a shit about bookselling. It's no different to selling dog food in a supermarket.
Boss: Well, you're fired.
Me: No shit.

I wonder if they ever believed an applicant again?
(Fothermucker, Mon 23 Apr 2007, 12:49, Reply)