Charlie Hatton About This
About Me
Email Me

Bookmark
 FeedBurnerEmailTwitterFacebookAmazon
Charlie Hatton
Brookline, MA



All Quotes
HomeAboutArchiveBestShopEmail

  |  

Howdy, friendly reading person!
I'm on a bit of a hiatus right now, but only to work on other projects -- one incredibly exciting example being the newly-released kids' science book series Things That Make You Go Yuck!
If you're a science and/or silliness fan, give it a gander! See you soon!

Tell Me, O Mighty Liege of Destruction, How Many Vacation Weeks Will I Have?

Live in your blog. Play in ours.

A couple of days ago, I had an interview. I think it went really well, and normally, except for one teensy little thing. Maybe it hurt my chances at the job, and then again, maybe it helped. I’ll explain, and then you can tell me, because I can’t decide.

So, in this interview, I met with a human resources woman, and then a guy, and then another woman. The guy is the leader of the group where the job is, and the last woman is the person currently doing the job.

(And she was a little bitter about the whole deal, I’m afraid.

Humph. You wore that tie to an interview?

You know your resume isn’t nearly as good as mine, don’t you?

You call that ass-kissing? Come on, man, get that tongue working!

Bitch and moan, bitch and moan. Still, I guess it would be tough to help find your own replacement for anything, really, much less a full-time job. What could be worse than that? Well, okay, maybe picking out your significant other’s next partner. That would suck. I don’t think I could help but be snarky and mean about that.

Penis, shmenis, dude. What’re you gonna do with that little thing? It’s practically an ‘innie’. Next!‘)

All right, what was I talking about? Oh, the interview. Right.

“You call that ass-kissing? Come on, man, get that tongue working!”

So, the bits with the ladies actually went okay, all things considered. Which is quite an accomplishment, really. When interacting with the fairer sex, I often manage to get my eyes or my mouth — and once, rather famously, the big toe on my left foot — stuck in places where they really shouldn’t be. So it’s a small miracle that I was able to talk to two women on the same day without getting so much as frowned at, not to mention slapped, kicked, shrieked at, headlocked, frisked, decked, or summarily escorted from the premises. So, yay Charlie.

But the boss-man interview was a bit… different. You see, I had the list of interviewers a couple of days before the event. Normally, this is just a good chance for me to practice saying strangers’ names without stuttering or fumbling like a clueless boob. I spend a few hours each day in front of a mirror, just reciting, ‘Yes, hello, I’m here to see John Smith.‘ or ‘Hi, Ms. Jones; it’s very nice to meet you.‘, until I can do it without sounding like a leprous schizophrenic.

(No, I don’t know how leprosy fits in there, either. I’m pretty sure that it has nothing to do with how you sound or speak or anything like that. Look, it sounded good at the time, and I’ve really got nothing better to replace it with, okay? Just let it go. They can’t all be gems, dammit.)

Anyway, that’s what usually happens. But not with this guy. See, he’s from another country. Which is cool — I’m all about flitting from nation to nation until you find one you like, or that has good food or hot bods, or a drinking age of nine. Whatever you’re into, that’s cool with me. That’s not the point here.

The point is that this guy — my prospective new boss — has a rather unusual name. At least for me. Maybe in his land, his name is like ‘John’ or ‘Mary’ over here, and he has to have a dozen nicknames so people can keep him straight amongst all his namesakes. Maybe. But probably not, really.

You see, he has a Godzillla name. An evil supergenius name. A cartoon nemesis name. And that name is… Zolton. Yes, Zolton. Zolton, Ruler of the Underworld. Has a nice ring to it, no?

And that’s the problem, of course. Look, I had two whole days to chew on this guy’s name, and to practice saying it, and to run it past the smartass little men who live in my brain. And so, by the time I showed up at this interview, ready to respectfully genuflect my way to a job, it was impossible to say, hear, or think of this man’s name without adding an imaginary title. In my head, at the least, but far preferably, out loud. I’m sure you can see where this is heading.

So, I managed to make it through the first interview, with the HR lady, without peeing myself or blurting anything out. She almost got me a couple of times, though.

Me: (Just ask me a damned question… ask me a question… don’t say his name… ask me a question…)

Her: So.

Me: Yes, ma’am?

Her: It looks like you’ll be meeting with Zolton next.

Me: (Zolton! Zolton, Defender of Darkness! Zolton will see you now! Aaaiiieeeeee!!)

Me: Hee hee — um, I mean, He. He… he’s meeting with me next? Good, good. I look forward to that.

Her: Yes, you’ll like him. Zolton’s very nice.

Me: (Zolton not nice! Zolton drink the blood of Zolton’s enemies! All hail, mighty Zolton, Destroyer of Men! Wooooot!)

Me: Ha hah! Uh, that is, ‘ha’. Ha… hou… how long has he been at the company?

Her: Who, Zolton?

Me: (Do you mock Zolton, Render of Souls? Zolton will crush thee like an insect! Insolence!)

Me: Mmppht! Mmrrr… Um, mmm-hmm. How long?

Her: Well, several years now. He was one of our first employees, as a matter of fact. Um, are you okay? Can I get you some water or something?

Me: Ah, no thanks. I think liquid in my mouth would actually be a really bad idea right now.

Her: Oh. I…um, see.

Okay, I said I ‘made it through‘ the thing, all right? I never claimed that I managed to make a good impression or anything useful like that. One small miracle at a time, you know.

So, anyway, we finished up and it was finally time to meet Zolton in the flesh. Or cape, or scales, or chain mail, or whatever the hell a ‘Zolton’ would be wearing. I half-expected him to sidle through the door, leering about and twirling a greasy moustache between his fingers.

(Not necessarily his own moustache, mind you; I couldn’t decide which would be more evil.)

On the other hand, I wouldn’t have been terribly surprised if he’d been nine feet tall and green and wearing animal skins of some kind, with some sort of death-dealy sword at his side. Oh, I’d have wet my pants; don’t get me wrong. But I’m not sure that I’d have been ‘surprised’, per se. Just so we’re clear on that point.

Anyway, he was a pretty normal-looking guy. Slacks, a button-down shirt, loafers. Short brown hair, average height, forties-ish. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Which turned out to be the worst thing of all, because that lulled me into a false sense of control over my asinine reflexes. I actually thought that because he looked normal, my brain would forget all that other crap and settle down to the business of landing me this job.

No such luck. Stupid brain.

So, when he introduced himself, I — with my guard down — let loose with that teensy weensy embarrassing thing that I mentioned above. It went hauntingly like this:

Him: Hello. Charlie?

Me: Yes, sir, that’s right.

Him: Good to meet you. I’m Zolton.

Me: Zolton! MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE!!

Him: …

Me: It’s — ahem — nice to meet you, too. Um, sir.

Amazingly, the rest of the interview with him went pretty smoothly. He gave me a very odd look after my little outburst, of course, but we settled down to business rather quickly. I even managed to piece together a few reasonable answers to his questions. Luckily, my brain was in ‘recharge’ mode after turning me into its temporary Tourette bitch, and I was left to concentrate on the actual interview. Of course, if he’d chosen to refer to himself in the third person (‘Zolton wants to know about your work experience.‘), I’m pretty sure Mr. Brain would have been back at the plate, ready to swing for the fences again. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.

In the end, he never mentioned my little faux pas, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to bring it up, even to apologize. So who knows what he thought? Perhaps he didn’t register it at all — maybe it was so strange and foreign to him that it passed through his mind without generating any memory whatsoever. Maybe? Nah. I could never be that lucky.

But maybe he didn’t know what I was talking about, so he cut me some slack. Hell, maybe he really thinks I have Tourette Syndrome, which could work in my favor. For one thing, he can’t reject me from consideration based on a medical condition.

(Or in this case, behavior bizarre enough to seem to warrant a clinical explanation, even if it’s not the case.)

More importantly, if I get the job, I can say anything the hell I want, and curse anywhere, any time, and at anybody I feel like, just so long as I look sheepish and innocent afterwards. Just like the interview, keeping a straight face may be the hardest part of the job.

Of course, it’s overwhelmingly likely that he did hear me, has some clue where the hell it came from, and he shit-canned my resume the moment I stepped out the door. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last. Still, that seems like a pretty harsh sentence to me. Think about it — who wouldn’t dig being the ‘Master of the Universe’? Or even called that by a relative stranger? I mean, look, there are ‘mad props’, and then there are ‘mad props!‘, and then there’s being called master of the freakin’ universe by some toady-wannabe begging for a job. C’mon, how could you possibly take that the wrong way?

So, maybe — just maybe — my brain’s little stunt helped me. In a few days, as Zolton (‘Conjurer of Unholy Spirits‘) looks through his stack of resumes, perhaps he’ll remember me. I’ll be the one who threw out the ultimate compliment, even before we’d sat down to chat. And Zolton (‘Prince of Shadows‘) will see my name, and realize that I’m the one for the job. I’m the one who’ll do the work, and do it fast and do it right, and never complain, and still pledge allegiance to His Excellence at the end of the day without reservation or complaint. Not everyone is cut out to serve Zolton (‘Lord of the Furies‘), you see. But Zolton (‘Bringer of Pestilence‘) knows a true disciple when he sees one, and I am that disciple. The Chosen One. So maybe blurting out one of the many titles held by Zolton (‘Punisher of Mortals‘) will get me that job, after all. Right? Um, right? Yeah?

Oh, I am so screwed.

Permalink  |  6 Comments



6 Responses to “Tell Me, O Mighty Liege of Destruction, How Many Vacation Weeks Will I Have?”

  1. Omg, you are freaking hilarious! Did that really happen?

  2. Charlie says:

    I’ll never tell… but if I mention later that I’ve landed a job as Senior Minion, then I guess you’ll know for sure.

  3. Andy says:

    Ok, Charlie, that was easily the funniest post you’ve written. I especially enjoyed the bit with the HR Lady. Why is it that your mind can…um…have a mind of its own sometimes?

  4. faz says:

    LOL! that was hilarious!!! i laughed so hard my side hurt! and yet, i can actually relate… the people in my head tend to do that to me at times when i really really need to be serious….

  5. Lisa says:

    Charlie: As a former HR lady, I absolutely have to know did you REALLY Say:

    Me: Zolton! MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE!!

    Trust me, I could tell you worse stories -you wouldn’t believe the friggin’ maniacs that interviewed at my former job . I can assure you that if you actually said that you remained the talk of the company for years to come -the next staff meeting was probably a regular yuk fest!!!!!!!!

  6. creepy uncle says:

    we have alot of threads at our forum that deal with ZOLTAN!. i know it’s a different spelling but really it’s just a regional thing. ZOLTAN! is omnipotent and all-knowing.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

HomeAboutArchiveBestShopEmail © 2003-15 Charlie Hatton All Rights Reserved
Highlights
Me on Film 'n' Stage:
  Drinkstorm Studios


Me on Science (silly):
  Secondhand SCIENCE


Me on Science (real):
  Meta Science News


Me on ZuG (RIP):
  Zolton's FB Pranks
  Zolton Does Amazon


Favorite Posts:
30 Facts: Alton Brown
A Commute Dreary
A Hallmark Moment
Blue's Clues Explained
Eight Your 5-Hole?
El Classo de Espanol
Good News for Goofballs
Grammar, Charlie-Style
Grammar, Revisitated
How I Feel About Hippos
How I Feel About Pinatas
How I Feel About Pirates
Life Is Like...
Life Is Also Like...
Smartass 101
Twelve Simple Rules
Unreal Reality Shows
V-Day for Dummies
Wheel of Misfortune
Zolton, Interview Demon

Me, Elsewhere

Features
Standup Comedy Clips

Selected Clips:
  09/10/05: Com. Studio
  04/30/05: Goodfellaz
  04/09/05: Com. Studio
  01/28/05: Com. Studio
  12/11/04: Emerald Isle
  09/06/04: Connection

Boston Comedy Clubs

 My 100 Things Posts

Selected Things:
  #6: My Stitches
  #7: My Name
  #11: My Spelling Bee
  #35: My Spring Break
  #36: My Skydives
  #53: My Memory
  #55: My Quote
  #78: My Pencil
  #91: My Family
  #100: My Poor Knee

More Features:

List of Lists
33 Faces of Me
Cliche-O-Matic
Punchline Fever
Simpsons Quotes
Quantum Terminology

Favorites
Banterist
...Bleeding Obvious
By Ken Levine
Defective Yeti
DeJENNerate
Divorced Dad of Two
Gallivanting Monkey
Junk Drawer
Life... Weirder
Little. Red. Boat.
Mighty Geek
Mitchieville
PCPPP
Scaryduck
Scott's Tip of the Day
Something Authorly
TGNP
Unlikely Explanations

Archives
Full Archive

Category Archives:

(Stupid) Computers
100Things
A Doofus Is Me
Articles 'n' Zines
Audience Participation
Awkward Conversations
Bits About Blogging
Bitter Old Man Rants
Blasts from My Past
Cars 'n' Drivers
Dog Drivel
Eek!Cards
Foodstuff Fluff
Fun with Words!
Googlicious!
Grooming Gaffes
Just Life
Loopy Lists
Making Fun of Jerks
Marketing Weenies
Married and a Moron
Miscellaneous Nonsense
Potty Talk / Yes, I'm a Pig
Sleep, and Lack Thereof
Standup
Tales from the Stage
Tasty Beverages
The Happy Homeowner
TV & Movies & Games, O My!
Uncategorized
Vacations 'n' Holidays
Weird for the Sake of Weird
Whither the Weather
Wicked Pissah Bahstan
Wide World o' Sports
Work, Work, Work
Zug

Heroes
Alas Smith and Jones
Berkeley Breathed
Bill Hicks
Dave Barry
Dexter's Laboratory
Douglas Adams
Evening at the Improv
Fawlty Towers
George Alec Effinger
Grover
Jake Johannsen
Married... With Children
Monty Python
Nick Bakay
Peter King
Ren and Stimpy
Rob Neyer
Sluggy Freelance
The Simpsons
The State

Plugs, Shameless
100 Best Humor Blogs | Healthy Moms Magazine

Alltop, confirmation that I kick ass

TopOfBlogs

HumorSource

Blogging Fusion Blog Directory

bloglovin

Top Blogs

 

Feeds and More
Subscribe via FeedBurner

[Subscribe]

RDF
RSS 2.0
Atom
Credits
Site Hosting:
Solid Solutions

Powered by:
MovableType

Title Banner Photo:
Shirley Harshenin

Creative Commons License
  This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons License

Mint Installation

Performancing Metrics

Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

Valid XHTML 1.0

Valid CSS!

© 2003-15 Charlie Hatton
All Rights Reserved