Aug. 16th, 2006

velouria: (Default)
I was given the task of scheduling interviews with dudes for our Branch today. It was by far and away the least coma-enducing activity I've done there thus far.

It felt super queer. I'm always the terrified one on the other end of the line. I'm not the person dangling one's future over the receiver. The first guy told me, and I quote, "You'll have to talk louder. I live under the freeway." Is it just me, or is that not the type of information you should be volunteering at this juncture in time. I hope he meant in a building, at least.

The next guy told me he worked nights currently, and said I'd woken him up cause he sleeps all day. I told him that I slept all day too, and they still hired me. He laughed uproariously. I laughed uproariously. I then made the mistake of telling my boss that, and he tossed the ap behind his shoulders and said, "Poor baby."

I turned (more) white. What had I done? I'd destroyed the dreams of the one guy with a personality and that did not live under the freeway. Although I guess the latter could use the job a bit more. I convinced him to interview the guy anyway, though. Please forgive me, Jesus.

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