I have a relatively large client that likes doing these crazy job descriptions, with pop culture references and trendy-ass job titles. Coaches, gurus, rockstars, et cetera. I don’t really care – I distribute bullshit for a living and can decipher someone elses – but they end each one with the old Mission Impossible tagline of when the job closes and says this opening to send people will self destruct at 5:00 Eastern on whatever day they specify. Well, one of them was listed at 5 on December 23rd.
Honestly, they are a royal pain in the ass with a ridiculously long process, but I’m on the distribution list and this time of year, I can usually allocate some time toward their reqs. I happen to have a sales rep (ROCKSTAR CLOSER!!!) that is moving to some backwater town in Oklahoma over that dead week between Christmas and New Years, and he’s both a fit and somewhat interested. What the hell, right? It’s 3PM Eastern and it’s still open according to their website. So I send it over and get the away message I anticipated, and figure I’ll drop it until Monday.
The HR lady then proceeds to send me a four part text message saying that there’s no way they are moving forward with anyone until mid-January, she’s in Connecticut for the holidays, blah blah blah. I am a little pissed off at this point for whatever reason, so I text her back that since it’s open I expect to get credit and we’ll talk when she gets home, Merry Christmas, blah blah blah. Then I get this gem: “I am on vacation WITH MY FAMILY. Stop bugging me!!!”
Uhhh, OK. I know that when Senior Human Resource Generalists that put their accreditation’s on their business cards start using caps for emphasis that it’s time to leave them alone. I’m still in the office at 5 EST and sure enough, I get the automated “pass- submitted after deadline” email. Instead of doing my usual let’s fuck up this woman’s life act, I decide to embrace the holiday spirit and just forward all the correspondence to the sales manager. After 5 on a holiday weekend, I figure he’s got his troops slugging Irish Car Bombs and putting it on the company Amex.
Wrong. He’s in the office and furious. “What the fuck is her problem? I need home run hitters and I need them yesterday! I’m calling that fat bitch right now!” I conveniently forget to tell him what a bad idea that was, wished him and his family a happy holiday, and hung up.
Merry Christmas, readers. May you place lots of people and fuck over thousands of HR people in the upcoming year. WIN early, WIN often.