Memorable job interviews.

Do you have any?

Two stick in my mind....both for different reasons.

After you.

Only ever had 2 job interviews in 48 years. Was asked on both occasions when I could start within 10 minutes of the interview. And I was recruited for 2 other paid jobs without interview. ( 1 of which I was headhunted for)

Syl wrote:Do you have any?

Two stick in my mind....both for different reasons.

After you.

I went for an interview once as a carer/companion for a disabled person. I had to sit before a board of of 5 people. It went swimmingly until I was asked if I had a clean driving licence and I had to own up to an old speeding 3 points off my licence thing that was nearly expired.

What happened next reminded me of that moment in the movie, An American Werewolf in London when the two travellers walk into the Slaughtered Lamb pub and the whole fucking place goes stone cold silent. I've ten eyes on me, slits for mouths and flaring nostrils. It left me wondering if I should ask for a gun and go do the honourable thing in a darkened room.

I didn't get the job.

Let's say I left school with a black hole where my maths knowledge should have been (strangely I sort of caught up in the years after school)anyway, the youth employment people sent me for two interviews, one at a factory where I would be helping to calculate wages, hopefully not on my own or there would have been a strike and to the local police headquarters for a similar job. The first obviously didn't get past the initial five minutes as I confessed my deficiency. At the police HQ. I had a sort of test, adding, subtracting etc was ok but working out percentages were something I just didn't get at the time anyway. I spent the last half of my interview with the interviewer showing me how to work out percentages which was just as well because at the next interview I got the job and ended up having to work out percentages.
Not mind blowingly memorable.

Andy wrote:Only ever had 2 job interviews in 48 years. Was asked on both occasions when I could start within 10 minutes of the interview. And I was recruited for 2 other paid jobs without interview. ( 1 of which I was headhunted for)

Your CV would be short and very impressive Andy.

HoratioTarr wrote:

Syl wrote:Do you have any?

Two stick in my mind....both for different reasons.

After you.

I went for an interview once as a carer/companion for a disabled person.  I had to sit before a board of of 5 people.  It went swimmingly until I was asked if I had a clean driving licence and I had to own up to an old speeding 3 points off my licence thing that was nearly expired.  

What happened next reminded me of that moment in the movie, An American Werewolf in London when the two travellers walk into the Slaughtered Lamb pub and the whole fucking place goes stone cold silent.  I've ten eyes on me, slits for mouths and flaring nostrils.  It left me wondering if I should ask for a gun and go do the honourable thing in a darkened room.  

I didn't get the job.

Did you ever hear of a club called 'Russian Daves' in Manchester?
You probably didn't because it was hardly advertised.

I was very young and very naive. Someone in town where I worked told me this club was looking for girls to run the bar and reception, so my friend and I went along for an interview. We arrived, a lovely looking girl took our coats, showed us to the bar, told us the owner would be in soon to interview us, brought us a glass of something fizzy from the bar, and left us to get a feel of the place.
We looked around, there were already some girls in the place, staff I presumed. It was very plush, the bar was well stocked, and there was a brilliant jukebox placed on a small dance floor.
We decided this would be a very nice place to work....then the doorbell rang out.
The lights were dimmed, a record was quickly chosen on the jukebox, and all the girls got on the dancefloor shimmering around suggestively. Whoever had openened the front door had let in a groups of men, who had obviously 'booked' to come into the club, and they were obviously there for one thing only.

It was, it finally dawned on us, a high class brothel.

A small man appeared, with an odd bulge in his pocket we presumed was some sort of weapon at the time, came over to us....we garbled we had made a mistake, asked for our coats, which thank God we got, and left quick.

Vintage wrote:Let's say I left school with a black hole where my maths knowledge should have been (strangely I sort of caught up in the years after school)anyway, the youth employment people sent me for two interviews, one at a factory where I would be helping to calculate wages, hopefully not on my own or there would have been a strike and to the local police headquarters for a similar job. The first obviously didn't get past the initial  five minutes as I confessed my deficiency. At the police HQ. I had a sort of test, adding, subtracting etc was ok but working out percentages were something I just didn't get at the time anyway. I spent the last half of my interview with the interviewer showing me how to work out percentages which was just as well because at the next interview I got the job and ended up having to work out percentages.
Not mind blowingly memorable.

Well you got the job Vintage, which is more than me and HT managed.

Syl wrote:

HoratioTarr wrote:

I went for an interview once as a carer/companion for a disabled person.  I had to sit before a board of of 5 people.  It went swimmingly until I was asked if I had a clean driving licence and I had to own up to an old speeding 3 points off my licence thing that was nearly expired.  

What happened next reminded me of that moment in the movie, An American Werewolf in London when the two travellers walk into the Slaughtered Lamb pub and the whole fucking place goes stone cold silent.  I've ten eyes on me, slits for mouths and flaring nostrils.  It left me wondering if I should ask for a gun and go do the honourable thing in a darkened room.  

I didn't get the job.

Did you ever hear of a club called 'Russian Daves' in Manchester?
You probably didn't because it was hardly advertised.

I was very young and very naive. Someone in town where I worked told me this club was looking for girls to run the bar and reception, so my friend and I went along for an interview. We arrived, a lovely looking girl took our coats, showed us to the bar, told us the owner would be in soon to interview us, brought us a glass of something fizzy from the bar, and left us to get a feel of the place.
We looked around, there were already some girls in the place, staff I presumed. It was very plush, the bar was well stocked, and there was a brilliant jukebox placed on a small dance floor.
We decided this would be a very nice place to work....then the doorbell rang out.
The lights were dimmed, a record was quickly chosen on the jukebox, and all the girls got on the dancefloor shimmering around suggestively. Whoever had openened the front door had let in a groups of men, who had obviously 'booked' to come into the club, and they were obviously there for one thing only.

It was, it finally dawned on us, a high class brothel.

A small man appeared, with an odd bulge in his pocket we presumed was some sort of weapon at the time, came over to us....we garbled we had made a mistake, asked for our coats, which thank God we got, and left quick.

You might have made a fortune!!

HoratioTarr wrote:

Syl wrote:




Did you ever hear of a club called 'Russian Daves' in Manchester?
You probably didn't because it was hardly advertised.

I was very young and very naive. Someone in town where I worked told me this club was looking for girls to run the bar and reception, so my friend and I went along for an interview. We arrived, a lovely looking girl took our coats, showed us to the bar, told us the owner would be in soon to interview us, brought us a glass of something fizzy from the bar, and left us to get a feel of the place.
We looked around, there were already some girls in the place, staff I presumed. It was very plush, the bar was well stocked, and there was a brilliant jukebox placed on a small dance floor.
We decided this would be a very nice place to work....then the doorbell rang out.
The lights were dimmed, a record was quickly chosen on the jukebox, and all the girls got on the dancefloor shimmering around suggestively. Whoever had openened the front door had let in a groups of men, who had obviously 'booked' to come into the club, and they were obviously there for one thing only.

It was, it finally dawned on us, a high class brothel.

A small man appeared, with an odd bulge in his pocket we presumed was some sort of weapon at the time, came over to us....we garbled we had made a mistake, asked for our coats, which thank God we got, and left quick.

You might have made a fortune!!

Undoubtedly.
I decided to earn my money with less strain on my back though.

One more unforgettable interview.

I was 15, due to leave school, and I had written for an interview to join the GPO in Manchester city centre. I had a reply my application for an interview had been accepted. They only took on a few school-leavers every year...so I wanted to give a good impression.

In those days money was very scarce, but I had one good outfit, which I had washed and ironed specially.
Come the day of the interview, I laid my clothes out carefully, I was to come home at lunchtime to change out of my school uniform  to attend the interview.
Unfortunately, something had bothered my older sister (she was a cow) and after I had left for school she had gone upstairs and ripped up my best clothes, so I had to attend the interview in my old school uniform.
There were several other young women there, all dressed in nice clothes, I was the only one who looked as if I had come straight from school...I was devastated.

But I did sit the interview and I did get the job, but I have never forgotten how I felt when I saw my ripped clothes.

Some sister! I would be pissed.

Original Quill wrote:Some sister!  I would be pissed.

Like I said, she was (and still is) a cow.

Syl wrote:One more unforgettable interview.

I was 15, due to leave school, and I had written for an interview to join the GPO in Manchester city centre. I had a reply my application for an interview had been accepted. They only took on a few school-leavers every year...so I wanted to give a good impression.

In those days money was very scarce, but I had one good outfit, which I had washed and ironed specially.
Come the day of the interview, I laid my clothes out carefully, I was to come home at lunchtime to change out of my school uniform  to attend the interview.
Unfortunately, something had bothered my older sister (she was a cow) and after I had left for school she had gone upstairs and ripped up my best clothes, so I had to attend the interview in my old school uniform.
There were several other young women there, all dressed in nice clothes, I was the only one who looked as if I had come straight from school...I was devastated.

But I did sit the interview and I did get the job, but I have never forgotten how I felt when I saw my ripped clothes.

What did your mum and dad say? I'd have swung her round by the short and curlies.

Well done getting the GPO job. What a sister to have.
Your encounter at the club was very memorable.

HoratioTarr wrote:

Syl wrote:One more unforgettable interview.

I was 15, due to leave school, and I had written for an interview to join the GPO in Manchester city centre. I had a reply my application for an interview had been accepted. They only took on a few school-leavers every year...so I wanted to give a good impression.

In those days money was very scarce, but I had one good outfit, which I had washed and ironed specially.
Come the day of the interview, I laid my clothes out carefully, I was to come home at lunchtime to change out of my school uniform  to attend the interview.
Unfortunately, something had bothered my older sister (she was a cow) and after I had left for school she had gone upstairs and ripped up my best clothes, so I had to attend the interview in my old school uniform.
There were several other young women there, all dressed in nice clothes, I was the only one who looked as if I had come straight from school...I was devastated.

But I did sit the interview and I did get the job, but I have never forgotten how I felt when I saw my ripped clothes.

What did your mum and dad say?  I'd have swung her round by the short and curlies.

My dad left when we were young.
My sister was a bully, I used to not tell my mum some of the things she did because she had enough on her plate.

I was never a fighter, I tolerated her bullying for years, she was only a couple of years older than me but twice as big. I only retaliated a couple of times, both times she ran from the house and stayed away till my mum came home.
It did teach early on how cowardly bullies can be when they realise they have pushed someone too far.

Vintage wrote:Well done getting the GPO job. What a sister to have.
Your encounter at the club was very memorable.

It was Vintage.

Syl wrote:

HoratioTarr wrote:

What did your mum and dad say?  I'd have swung her round by the short and curlies.

My dad left when we were young.
My sister was a bully, I used to not tell my mum some of the things she did because she had enough on her plate.

I was never a fighter, I tolerated her bullying for years, she was only a couple of years older than me but twice as big. I only retaliated a couple of times, both times she ran from the house and stayed away till my mum came home.
It did teach early on how cowardly bullies can be when they realise they have pushed someone too far.

The interesting thing here is that you were both obviously raised the same way, and yet turned out so differently.

I can’t remember anything about my job interviews that is worth sharing, but I well remember how I had a very satisfying departure from one.

I had a particularly objectionable immediate superior, a ghastly  harridan who took great delight in attempting to belittle, demean and bully male colleagues at her monthly staff “conferences”...conference in quotes because she never conferred; she dictated.

I had just landed a new job, and thought it would be convenient to go to the conference at our London HQ and pop in beforehand to see Bob, the divisional director with whom I was on very cordial terms, hand him my letter of resignation and bid my farewells. He accepted it, thanked me for my service and wished me well in my new job.

The conference was the lady’s usual sneering, one-sided display of misandry and I made an enjoyable point of purposely disagreeing and arguing with her knowing that I was attracting her customary wrath.

Eventually she yelled at me: “Right. That’s enough. I’ll see you that you lose your job over this!”

With a beatific smile I replied: “Thanks very much, me old darling’ , but you’re  a bit late. Bob accepted my resignation an hour ago...and wished me all the best in my new job.”

I was really worried that she was about to have a coronary.....

HoratioTarr wrote:

Syl wrote:

My dad left when we were young.
My sister was a bully, I used to not tell my mum some of the things she did because she had enough on her plate.

I was never a fighter, I tolerated her bullying for years, she was only a couple of years older than me but twice as big. I only retaliated a couple of times, both times she ran from the house and stayed away till my mum came home.
It did teach early on how cowardly bullies can be when they realise they have pushed someone too far.

The interesting thing here is that you were both obviously raised the same way, and yet turned out so differently.

I don't think that's unusual, it gives rise to the whole debate of nature or nurture though.

Fred Moletrousers wrote:I can’t remember anything about my job interviews that is worth sharing, but I well remember how I had a very satisfying departure from one.

I had a particularly objectionable immediate superior, a ghastly  harridan who took great delight in attempting to belittle, demean and bully male colleagues at her monthly staff “conferences”...conference in quotes because she never conferred; she dictated.

I had just landed a new job, and thought it would be convenient to go to the conference at our London HQ and pop in beforehand to see Bob, the divisional director with whom I was on very cordial terms, hand him my letter of resignation and bid my farewells. He accepted it, thanked me for my service and wished me well in my new job.

The conference was the lady’s usual sneering, one-sided display of misandry and I made an enjoyable point of purposely disagreeing and arguing with her knowing that I was attracting her customary wrath.

Eventually she yelled at me: “Right. That’s enough. I’ll see you that you lose your job over this!”

With a beatific smile I replied: “Thanks very much, me old darling’ , but you’re  a bit late. Bob accepted my resignation an hour ago...and wished me all the best in my new job.”

I was really worried that she was about to have a coronary.....

Hahaha....you are a mischievous little devil on the quiet aren't you.

I bet a few of us have had memorable departures from Jobs as well as memorable interviews.

The last job I had, working the bar lunchtimes in a traditional country pub I loved. The landlady was a very good friend, her OH was a brilliant chef who home cooked everything, it was an absolutely idyllic place to spend time, it was a busy bustling place, I worked there for 12  years, actually I didn't consider it working, it was pleasure.

Unfortunately, one lunchtime, my friend died suddenly whist we were working together. Her husband soldiered on for a couple of years, then eventually he sold it to a young couple who ran the place down to the ground.

I stayed on for a bit whilst they got settled, but it was no longer a good place to work.
They had a brat of a young daughter, who would come behind the bar interfering, she used to mess around with my stuff, my tips, my spare shoes, my glasses especially.
I went in one morning and my specs were missing, customers had seen her wearing them after I had gone home the day before, of course the girl denied this, and her parents did sweet sod all about it.

So....I made an appointment at my opticians to have another pair made, (which they refused to pay for) but the only appointment I could get would mean leaving work an hour early later in the week.

The next week I went in, opened up the bar, my wages were always made up and left in the till. The new owner had actually deducted one hours pay from my wage.

So not only had their daughter cost me a hundred plus quid to replace my glasses, I had also lost the  hours pay to get them replaced.

I took the amount they had deducted from the till, left them a note ....and left for good.

I found out later the landlady had to drag her arse out of bed to do my job, which she had no idea how to do. The pub, which had been well established for over 100 years, folded soon after under their useless running of it.

Departures from jobs??? I’ve had many!

Most memorable was when I worked for a newspaper as a sales rep for the motor department. I spent long hours one week working on a car feature, glossy photos, beautiful write-ups, all ready to go to print.

My boss was a bitch, long story short she fired me for absolutely nothing one evening.

I came back the next day before anyone else had arrived and ripped up all the photos and write ups. Left the mess on my desk, smoked a cigarette, drank coffee and waited for her to show up.

I told her to fuck herself and walked out.

Still surprised I wasn’t done for criminal damage or some such shit.

My second job after university was for a writer/editor position at a magazine in Fort Worth. It was a two-rounder, the only time I've ever had one of those, and I'd just turned 23.

The second round was an interview that included the entire editorial staff, which was a bit intimidating, but what was memorable was when one of my future colleagues asked me, "You've had the chance to look at a lot of editions of our magazine; is there anything you'd suggest that we could do better?"

Straight from the heart without even thinking about it, I said, "I'd never critique this magazine until I had the chance to see how it was made each month. Otherwise I'd probably suggest something that you've all wanted to do but you can't realistically change without hiring a lot more staff, or something like that."

They all really liked that answer and apparently I got a unanimous "yes" from my fellow writers!

Later, the executive editor said she was really reluctant to hire me because I'd mailed in a resume that had a big coffee mug stain on it. I didn't have the heart to tell her that she must have done that, because I would never send out a resume that was less than pristine

Are you sure you still want the job?

If I had an interview today, I would ask for time as well as money. That is, I wouldn't settle for 'at-will' employment. I would say something like: I require $500,000/year, for two years. I don't really care about the time, as long as I get the money...they can pay it all up front, for that matter.

I've seen too many cases where a firm just hires someone for his connections, skills, and/or practices, and then steals them and kicks the guy out the door in 2-months. Ask for a period of time at a certain wage, and you both know what is coming.