Interviews

Remember how I gave notice two weeks ago? The boss doesn't seem to. I've had to take the initiative of drafting up the ad and posting it myself. To add to the challenge, I'm not allowed to post it anywhere that costs money.

We finally called in a couple of people to interview today but for the mostpart, it's been a huge waste of time. See, the official posting is for a Systems Administrator but a bulk of the work is actually office administration. So on one hand, the office worker types will be frightened off by the technical skills required and the technical types will be scared off by all the office work. Both scenarios happened today. As an aside, the second interview was a complete gong show and I've compiled this handy list of things not to do in an interview based on it. Please, don't do these:

1. Make fun of the hiring company's archaic system.
2. Say that you're only there for the money and probably won't stay around for long.
3. Forget to shave... for a few days.
4. Avoid eye contact.

Through today's failed interviews, I think the boss is finally realizing the true gravity of his situation. He's told me he's now prepared to hire 2 people to fill my shoes. Man, I wish I got those two paycheques.

In the meantime, he's continuing his effort to get me to stay. I've been lectured on the dangers of exotic diseases (avian bird flu is his favourite), armed robbers, cutting off my career, wasting my money, etc. etc. etc.. I won't hear any of it. A couple of the guys in the order desk have even convinced themselves that I'm going to Thailand for the girls. You know, the ones you pay for, ah, services rendered... They are spreading the word like gospel. Maybe it's to embarrass me into staying?

I really wish I could take tomorrow off.

Christmas and the Single Man

Christmas season is not the most pleasant of times for the single man. Observe, as he recoils in horror as the saccharine num num goodness of the holiday encroaches on his personal space, reminding him that he will be spending the season alone. Again.

Christmas has come early for the single man this year. It's only mid November and the radio in his office has already started playing carols. Unable to cope, he does what he knows best. Cuss loudly.

So anyway, this radio. This Christmas radio. The one that's flanking me on the right side, has been playing the most God awful smooth jazz since I started working here. I have plead with the higher ups to move it elsewhere but apparently its current positioning is set up for optimal acoustic effect (it doesn't distract anybody else but me). I've even tried turning it down and changing the station but that usually results in our German receptionist's Hitler-esque tirades.

I'm starting to suspect that there are hidden consequences to my daily dose of Christmas radio and I fear I may have developed some sort of Pavlovian response to it. I hear a couple of smooth jazz renditions of Jingle Bell Rock and my "inside thoughts" mechanism shuts down. Random profanities begin flowing out. Kenny G's sax comes on and my vision blurs. Anything by Michael Buble and there's a broken coffee mug in my hand. The Christmas Shoes Song plays and it's all over.

I guess having to spend most of my holidays doing inventory doesn't help the situation any either.

Sixth Sense

M has spent all day trying to sneak up on me in my office. I think he wants to elicit some sort of fight or flight response (screaming like a little girl and soiling myself). He hasn't had much luck though and he's trying to find out how I know he's standing behind me. His theory is that I have some kind of Asian mystical psychic ability. I reassured him that if I did, I probably wouldn't be working here. I'd be in the circus or something ("The Bearded Chinaman" has a nice ring to it).

So what's my secret?

M smells like Doritos.

Monster Hairlip

Facial hair, or rather, lack thereof, is a racial handicap of mine (bad driving also falls under this category - I'm a little too liberal when it comes to using hazard lights). Every so often, I like to reaffirm that yes, we Asian men are still categorized as "hairless apes."

It has been six weeks since I last shaved. At first, it was part of my plan to lull my co-workers into a false sense of security. See, a few colleagues had noticed my recent dissatisfaction with working conditions and suspected I was looking elsewhere. Word would spread to the boss and he'd probably give me a hard(er) time as a result. As a counter-measure, I decided a lapse in personal hygiene was in order. The thought being that it would surely make job interviews an exercise in futility therefore putting their concerns to rest. I guess it doesn't matter now anyway.

As the weeks progressed, my thick and luxurious beard (read: patchy and nasty) and complementary moustache (read: hairlip) have resulted in unintended benefits.

For instance, I spend quite a fair bit of time stroking my "beard" in quiet contemplation at my desk. When somebody steps into my office, they apologize for interrupting and tell me that they'll come back when I'm not so busy. From their perspective, I'm mulling over some important issue with our system. I'm usually thinking about lunch or whether I remembered to lock the door when I left home.

Another benefit of the beard is the constant distraction it provides in workplace conversation.

Example:

Joe Blow Co-worker: "Uh, hey Jon. Could you go over this... Ah.."
*eyes wander downward*
Joe Blow Co-worker: "Uh...this...umm...."
Me: "I'm up here"
Joe Blow Co-worker: "...huh?"

They often start subconsciously scratching their chins at this point.

I'm sure my co-workers have started calling me "patches" behind my back. I would prefer they call me "Blackbeard" as it would give me sufficient justification to talk like a pirate all day. Yar.