Nip Slip….

I spent most of my time this week hanging out at unemployment….and yeah….it was precisely as glamorous as it sounds.

I wasn’t filing though, I was there to recruit.  It’s a staffing tactic I employ a few times a year.  It’s never wildly successful and the years have made me far too cynical to believe my newest attempts might be any different than the last.

In the beginning, I genuinely believed the unemployed would arrive in droves to scoop up a good job with great benefits….but I quickly learned that the really good unemployed, aren’t hanging out at the unemployment office….their scouring the internet, attending networking events, updating their LinkedIn accounts and seeking out recruiting agencies who might be able to help them get a foot in the door somewhere.

They are, essentially, the people I actually hire….and I didn’t find them hunched over their Facebook account in the unemployment computer lab either.

So in reality, these visits are not actually about recruiting.  They are, in part, a “check the box” for compliance purposes and a bit of community outreach as well.  It’s not unusual that I might spend a portion of my time helping someone create a resume, fill out an online application or practice interviewing….I would be remiss in suggesting everyone is there to loiter, snag office supplies and take advantage of whatever can be found in the kitchenette….but there are plenty of those folks milling about too and they make for some pretty good people watching.

Here’s how I earned a paycheck this week….

1.  13 of the “job-seekers” who expressed interest in employment at The Company, declined the opportunity to apply stating, “I won’t pass the drug test.”  Given that all 13 of them were unemployed and collecting, I felt as they though should have at least offered to share….or taken the time to write me a thank you note for my financial contribution.

2.  I had a long conversation about dating, marriage and drinking with a random lady who sauntered into the conference room I was using just to chat….about dating, marriage and drinking.  We had actually sort of met about 15 minutes prior….in the bathroom….though I don’t think she knew it.  I was there for a tinkle, she was there to deposit something that sounded incredibly squishy and explosive and smelled like something that had been dead for a very long time.  I quit, mid-stream, because I was starting to gag and fled the scene.

When we were formally introduced, I knew it was her because in the bathroom, when I had glanced down at the feet in the stall next to me, I saw what appeared to be men’s sneakers and I briefly wondered if I had accidentally gone into the men’s room.

While she prattled on about how she’d never been married because she didn’t drink heavily and didn’t like to have random sex and since that’s the only thing men want, she was never what they wanted….and then complimented me on my wedding rings, leaving me to wonder if that meant she believed I liked to drink heavily and have random sex since I was married….I noticed something new about her.  Her nipples.

She was wearing a crochet type top that was somewhat worn and misshapen so that the loops of yarn making up the sweater were a bit stretched from what I imagine they had been when the sweater was new.  Since she wasn’t wearing a bra, one of her nipples would occasionally pop out of one of the openings when she shifted her stance or gestured to make a point.

I was a bit startled and unsure if it was the kind of thing you tell someone.  Similar to that old debate about whether or not you should tell someone their Zipper is down….only in this case I’d be saying, “Hey, your nipple just popped out.”

I couldn’t bring myself to say it though….instead, I just took bets in my mind about which one would pop out next.

A few weeks ago, I saw another woman’s vagina at Chipotle, so I’m starting to wonder if the universe is trying to send me some sort of message I’m not picking up on.  If that’s the case, I’m formally putting it out there that I obviously need a clearer message and if the universe could clarify before my next encounter involves, oh, I don’t know, a butt-hole, I’d appreciate it.


3.  I interviewed a guy who spent most of our conversation toying with a blue lighter that said, “This is My Fucking Lighter” in white lettering on the sides and I mostly just wanted to ask, “Whose fucking lighter is that?”

That’s all I’ve got this week, but I feel like it was just precisely enough….

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