Am I mean?
Am I mean?
I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Seriously, the world loves me. I'm not sure why it does, but I love most of it right back. I love wrapping presents. Flowers are important. That TOTALLY wasn't me who prank called you, I swear. I love to grocery shop. My boyfriend loves to cook. I can't get enough of kissing him. My bicycle has streamers on the handles. I think if people wanna know about my faith, they'll ask. I look young, and sound old. I love chaos, so you'll always find pets and teenagers around my house. I always have at least one book in my purse. At camp in high school, I was voted "Most Talkative." UNANIMOUSLY. I dance at the slightest provocation. This blog is my mirror, my publicist, my calendar, and my most flattering angle. I am its pushy stage mother. And apparently, I'm important enough to get hate mail. Sweet.
Blogging from sunny San Diego
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4 Comments:
*polite yet firm voice*
"Sir, if you'd like to have a seat, I am willing to call a few people who's positions relate to your previous experience on your resume and perhaps one of them will know, and HOPEFULLY we can still have your interview here today."
It had the desired effect. He sat down and shut up.
I still say you should've gone with what was in the post. Clearly he didn't care too much about it.
Some people's children. Hmph.
I'm with m.i.l. -- you should have just said it. Wotta dipshit. Jayziz...
yes, people tend to forget that the receptionist is the first line of defense against idiots being hired. i still give mad props to the nice older irishman who remembered my name when he came in for his second round of interviews.
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