I once had a neighbour called Ken. Ken had a greenhouse and pristine lawn. This always drove my Dad bonkers, ’cause our lawn was sh*t and constantly dug up by the dog.
One day, playing Wembley in the back garden, the game poised at 38 all, I pinged a ball destined for ‘top bins’. If anything I hit it too well. Only denied by the heroics of Gaz in goal, who impaled his hand on a thorn bush to tip the shot round the post and over the fence.
A loud smash followed. Faces dropped.
Gaz, putting aside his career ending injury, peered over.
“SH*T, WE’VE RUINED HIS PETUNIAS!”
Now, given the fact I had a 7 year old mate who knew what petunias were, you can tell I grew up on a nice road. So the first time this happened, we didn’t jump the fence. Like nice, polite young lads, we rang his doorbell and asked for our ball back. However Ken wasn’t a nice man. Upon seeing the minimal destruction, he slashed our ball and threw it in the bin.
And we’re not talking about a threadbare road ball here. This was a brand new Mitre Premier League ball.
I’ve hated Kens ever since.
They’re all horrible old grumpy b*stards who hate kids, fun and football.
I lambast anyone called Ken every time I encounter one. Online. On the bus. In the chippy. Down the pub.
But people take this attitude with recruiters. So much so, recruiter bashing’s now a sport. The Olympic Committee is assembled by those with the most likes on LinkedIn. Judge’s scores rain in from all over the world.
Well, it’s time to level the playing field.
Here are some reasons people hate recruiters, and who you should actually be directing your anger towards.
Yeah, recruiters never get back to you.
But we’re not the worst offenders by a mile.
Last year I bought my 1 year old nephew a ride on tractor and he STILL hasn’t thanked me for it. Ungrateful little scrote.
The good thing about scolding a kid is, you know they’ll be able to get their own back. Sooner or later, they’ll be bigger and stronger than you. Which justifies being terrible to them now.
Next time you see one give them a dig in the back of the head. Steal their hat. Push them in a bush.
I absolutely guarantee you’ll chuckle at least once.
Yeah, recruiters like money. That’s why they do what they do.
But in comparison to old folks, we’re not even close to the most money hungry. My penny pinching Nan only gave me a tenner at Christmas. And I know she’s loaded cause my Grandad left her the Porsche and the house in his will the week before.
In their day you could buy a house for a tenner. What do they need all their money for? Werther’s Originals?
Old people have had their fun. There are now more old people in the UK than young people. Know what that means? Opportunity.
Back in the day, when punching kids was actually acceptable, these b*stards were the ring leaders.
Well, you’re not a kid any more are you.
Show ’em who’s boss.
Warning: Most carry some kind of concealed weapon/walking aide. Disarm them before the fight by offering help with stairs.
People who think recruiters get an easy ride have never been a recruiter. We don’t get paid for 90% of our work.
You know who gets an easier ride than recruiters? Doctors.
Swanning around like rockstars. Making mega bucks from simply checking medical charts and listening to music on their snazzy stethoscopes PAID FOR BY US. We have to actually work for a living!
It’s time someone took down doctors a peg or two. Next time you see one, tell ’em what sh*ts they are.
Or… ask them if they could take a look at a lump on your mid-riff and then elbow them in the neck.
Recruiters are only interested in one thing.
You ever spoken to a mother about current affairs? They start every sentence with “as a mother”. But watch the mood turn when you mention their kids in a completely unrelated conversation.
“Yeah Brexit’s sh*t, what an ugly, unexpected situation. Like your children.”
“No need to apologise, it’s happened now, let’s move on.”
I saw an update calling all recruiters donkeys recently. And it may be true, but you never see actual donkeys getting a bashing online.
Despite that they’ve always got a long face. Actually they look like they’ve just read a bad review of themselves online. Which I presume is why they’re one of the most cared-for charities in the UK. Last year Donkeys received £21m in funding. How much did you make?
I bet it wasn’t even close.
And what ‘good’ do they do with this wealth? Swan off to the beach and have fun.
Also, everyone associates Donkeys with Christ (the baby version) since the whole Bible thing. Meaning they get more attention in petting zoos and a guaranteed place in the Church Nativity. B*stards.
How many times have you set fire to something? Hardly ever! Sure there was that time at your school, but the forensics proved inconclusive.
Yet the Fire Service are happy to charge full rates like they’re not sat on their arses 90% of the time. And who pays for that? You do.
At least recruiters only charge when we place someone.
They get paid whether the fire goes out or not.
Yes recruiters like having nice things. But who doesn’t?
As a Choir Boy I spent a lot of time in church as a youngster. But, despite praying really really hard for a Super Soaker one wasn’t forthcoming. And as I was there, on my knees, eyes closed, hands outstretched, I noticed the Vicar had stopped in front of me.
“Why hasn’t God bought me a Super Soaker Father?” I whimpered.
He smiled warmly, gave me a knowing wink and gestured downwards.
“Well my son, sometimes God needs a helping hand… you might need to rub him the right way? Y’know, massage his ego?”
Then I noticed the collection plate in his hand, so, putting two and two together I realised God likes a little tip too.
I whacked a quid in his pot and left. Never got that Super Soaker though.
In shock? Hate recruiters even more now? Stick it on the slate!
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