Monday, April 30, 2012

Questions you shouldn't ask during an interview

A while ago I mentioned that I had unofficially given my notice at Mulletville Corp, where I'm employed full-time as a graphic designer and unlicensed therapist to my fucktard co-workers. Not much has changed since. I'd like to officially give my notice—ideally by writing "I quit" across my naked butt cheeks and mooning my department—but until I can find a part-time position or something with some flexibility, it's a no-go.

I've been scouring the newspapers and job sites and let me tell you, there ain't shit. Worse, of the few openings listed, many leave me scratching my head about what's expected. Like this one for a part-time receptionist:

There's so much more I need to know about this "must like people and teeth" position. Like, must I like people and teeth equally? Are we talking people teeth or animal teeth too? Are the teeth in people's mouths or outside of them? Am I going to be bitten or do I have to bite people...and are they the same people I'm supposed to "like" or a different group of people?

Then there's the really crucial question: How much do I need to like teeth? Must I like teeth so much that the sight of them stops me dead in my tracks, or can I lukewarmly admire them over a cup of coffee? Is one of the interview questions, "What do you think about when you're making love to your partner?" and is the correct answer "teeth"?

Like is such a relative term. It's the grayest of grays!

If I lie and say I like teeth to get the job, will I be a fake amongst authentic teeth lovers or has everyone feigned a fondness for chompers just to get on the payroll? If management does believe my lies and hires me, are there sporadic tests, like drug tests, to assure that my desire for teeth hasn't waned? Like, will they bring me into a room one day, turn down the lights, and show me this

and shout, "Look at this picture! Look at it! Do you still like teeth? Do YOU?"

And what if I can't pretend anymore? What if I finally can't take the sight of gums and teeth and fillings anymore and all the "OMG I LOVE teeth" bullshit by the water cooler and I have to cry out, "No! I hate teeth! I HATE them!"? Will they grab me by the arms and drag me out and throw me on the street?

What if?

See? I knew I shouldn't apply for this job.

I knew it.


Patty Woodland said...

Here is some tooth trivia to help with your interview:

goats only have teeth on the bottom. They have a hard palate on top for grinding but no teeth.

How do you like THAT?

MaryBT said...

Why don't you just go into business for yourself? Sell blog headers on Etsy or something? I don't know, I got nothing. I'm an engineer and have nightmares that someday someone is going to come in and say, "If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?" And I'll be all like, "WTF? I'm an engineer, I'm supposed to be exempt from questions like that." And they'll be all like, "You're fired." lol.

Jeanne said...

I worked as a dental assistant (to my childhood dentist) for a year when I was in my twenties (okay, late teens, I was an early bloomer, or at least an early worker) so I have a few fake it suggestions:

1) If the opportunity arises to criticize someone (say, Tim Tebow), shake your head and say, "That guy doesn't know his buccal from his linqual."

2) Annnounce, apropos of nothing, "The bicuspid is the most underrated tooth in the mouth. I mean, it's the cornerstone of the whole shebang."

3) When you talk about the hazards of aging, shrug noncomittally and murmur, "A million taps. These things don't last forever, you know."

That should at least get you in the door.

(You're welcome.)

Frogs in my formula said...

Hmmm, this career change may be more work than I'm up for. Maybe I should stick to picking fonts, not musing about bicuspids...

Gina said...

That job requirement scares me. I can at least act like I like people, but I'm not even PRETENDING to be chummy with their teeth.

Grand Pooba said...

Bahaha!! I could never be a dentist.

Man! There are a lot of holes in my neighborhood

Our young neighbors Bob and Claire are wonderful —which is a fricken relief because we basically share a yard. A flat, treeless yard. When ...