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This is a question Why should you be fired from your job?

I spent three years "working" in the Ministry of Agriculture carefully crafting projectiles out of folded paper and drawing pins that I would then fire at colleagues with an elastic band. On discovering I'd been conducting all-out warfare when I should really have been in a field counting cows, I was asked to "reconsider my career options" outside the service.

Why, then, should you be fired from your job?

(, Thu 9 Aug 2007, 13:04)
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Why sir, I do believe you're a rotten bastard

My first ever employment disaster.

When I'd just left school, back in the early 1980's, I'd my heart set on a career as an unemployable dope fiend.

Unfortunately, my mother had other ideas and, unbeknownst to me, sent off an application to catering college. I was furious and determined to fail the entrance exam. I sat the exam, which consisted of multiple choice answers to questions about bar tending. For every question, Every. Single. Question mark you, I chose the 'Nuclear Option'.

To wit.

(Q) A customer claims you've short-changed him, what do you do?

(A) Challenge him to a fist fight

(Q) A customer claims their meal is inedible, what do you do?

(A) Call the police


Off home I went, happy in the knowledge that young Fanta could safely resume his lethargic ways. How wrong I was. Out of thousands, thousands I tell you, of applicants I was in the final shortlist of 250. Me, with the "Beat up toddlers" answers, I ask you.

So, I got called for an interview in a city centre hotel. I was sent off with a suit but, without my parents knowing, got changed in a mate's bedsit and turned up for the interview in jeans and a combat jacket. I was first in the queue so in I went.

There was a MILF sitting behind the desk who looked daggers at me. She berated me for not having dressed for the occasion so we were off to a flying start. I did my best sullen insolence act ever and she got angrier by the minute. Eventually she stopped the interview and, in a school-marm fashion, asked me what I was going to do with the rest of my life. "Why live on the dole off of your taxes of course" was my reply. This was it, I'd really done it now. She shoved the desk towards me screaming at the top of her lungs to get out. I got up and opened the door turned with a smirk and said "You have a nice day now, as for me, I'm off to the pub" She let out another screech and flung her notepad at me which sailed over my head and bounced off the wall opposite. It was while watching it slide to the floor that I realised that the corridor was crowded with around a dozen or so other applicants waiting their turn. I smiled at them and said "You'll be grand, she's in great form."

Needless to say, I wasn't offered a place but I did get a very nice letter informing me of this.
(, Thu 9 Aug 2007, 17:09, Reply)

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