lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm Going to Hell and It Seems My Conscience is Broken A few weeks ago, a candidate for the receptionist position at work came in for a two-week trial. She appeared, on first glance, to have a disability that was physical, which was like, big whoop, whatever. Over the two weeks, however, it became apparent that she was at least mentally disabled enough to make doing the receptionist job difficult for her, and the end of her two-week trial ended her career here. One of the warning signs was that, despite being shown twice, she could never remember where the recycle bin was. And once she was shown, she asked, "Do I put the paper in the bin, or throw it away?" I didn't find it funny, and I did feel bad for her when they let her go, even though it was necessary. Enter the new candidate, also on the two-week trial. She seems far more suited to the job, and after the current receptionist brought her back to show her the recycle bin, I said, "Well, if she can find it tomorrow, does that mean she's hired?" That was met with silence. I made fun of the retarded woman, and didn't even realize that there might be something wrong with that. Not until a few people cringed. Yeah. 2:05 PM - 14 December 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||