Podcasts teach, sometimes.

When I managed UBF I hired folk. Factory labourers and managers. The labourers sourced from ads in the local free newspapers and word of mouth. But for managerial positions folk sent in a resume.

Mario the general manager in Sydney asked me to replace the sales manager. In fact the position used to belong to the previous plant manager he’d laid off on my very first day. A newspaper ad elicited many applications. The most suitable applicants were advised to Mario who asked me to have them handwrite half a page of their achievements, including numbers relating to sales targets achieved in other employment prior to any interview.

D’oh! I was awkwardised. Nevertheless, I complied, rang a few candidates duly receiving several handwritten responses. Mario asked that I forward them to him, and someone, Alicia if memory serves me correctly, would ring telling me who to chose. Having met the candidates personally I’d already formed an opinion as to who the most suitable candidate might be.

As weeks passed several of the candidates became tired of my increasingly banal excuses for delay and withdrew.

Down to just three contenders, I was pleased one winter evening to take Alicia’s call. She told me a heap of hoo-ha about slope, misshapen downstrokes and irregular line spacings amongst so much more that precluded several of the candidates. However, one candidate shone, Gary.  She liked his firm style and crossed t’s, with firm angularity. I said,

“But he’s withdrawn saying he was sick of all this phoeey.”

“No matter” she replied, ” Get him back. I’ll tell Mario to send me my cheque, I’ll be seeing him soon.”

Next morning I called Gazza, told him the news. I wasn’t sure if for him it was good or bad news.

“I can do it, but you’ll need to raise the pay and bonuses by forty per cent.”

“Fuck,” I thought but didn’t say.

Alicia and Mario loved Gazza’s panache, it was so written. His style mimicked Marios’ perfectly.

The previous evening over a swank dinner in Rose Bay, Alicia and Mario had gushed over the slant, page usage and “a’s and o’s” of this perfect candidate. He’d pay whatever to get this hero.

Gazza was duly installed. I called the remaining contenders and made lame excuses as to why we’d taken so long to not make a decision

Over the next week, I wasn’t so impressed.

He lasted a month.

Was it something in his long hanging  “g’s” they’d missed?









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