That's a bad pun, but as a heading it beats out the runners-up, which were "I Want to Kill the Corporate Whores Who Work With Me" and "Human Resources Professionals Are F*cking Useless." Live with it.
This morning I had a wildcat flat tire. In case you were wondering, that is not a flat tire that stalks me through the brush and then leaps for the kill, jaws agape. Instead, it's a flat tire that comes out of nowhere. Saturday, tire good; Monday morning, tire bad. Anyway, I managed to get the spare on with Dan's help and without staining the new shirt I bought at Daffy's, but naturally the spare itself is low on air. Ugh. I just hope the damn thing gets me home alive tonight. If you hear about a teal Toyota Corolla doing an 80-mile-an-hour cartwheel on West River Drive, Movie Night's cancelled.
Back to HR people. I am sure they mean well, and I'm not suggesting we send them off to New Auschwitz for disposal, but I have to wonder just how they participate in the recruitment process aside from making a few phone calls and shuffling paper. I can make a few phone calls, and my ten-year-old niece can shuffle papers, but that doesn't mean we should be hired as a tag-team HR executive. (Our office would be this weird melange of Hilary Duff posters and "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" memorabilia. You have to guess who owns which.)
2 comments:
You mean all that Hilary Duff stuff hidden in the downstairs bedroom closet is *yours*? I thought for certain it was Dan's. ;P
Sucks about your flat, but ooh! you are in high sass today, and I find that very amusing. :-)
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