In my position at the plantation, I do a lot of job interviews. Most people come in there like they have some sense, but some don’t. I’ve pretty much seen the best and the worst, so I’ve decided to write an open letter to those who don’t seem like they know better.:
Dear Potential Employees,
I’m so glad you decided to interview with our company. Myself and the other managers were impressed with your resume, but we do have some concerns. Some of this may come off a bit harsh, but it’s really for your own good.
I know that snake-print halter dress was expensive and you want to get as much wear out of it as you can, but it’s best left for the club. Our company encourages individual expression, but you shouldn’t express everything all the time. It’s great that you shaved your chocha for today’s meeting with us, and I’m very happy that you feel fresh now. But I shouldn’t have been able to see for myself that you had your bikini waxer trim the bush into the shape of the Gucci symbol. Cross your legs next time, it’s much more ladylike. Let me break it down another way….FD muthafuckin S or Summer’s gotdamned Eve please! Use it, because you and your shorn pucci smell like South Street Seaport. I see now that you do have a PhD. I guess that stands for Pussy(smells like) hot Damn?! There’s no need for me to be able to discern this information durning an interview. I’m going to forward your resume to the gentlemen’s club as they are looking for new “cocktail waitresses” and that halter dress can be your uniform. Please excuse me while I regurgitate my breakfast. No, you didn’t get the job.
My brotha, we like chicken here. We order in quite often. We also enjoy gifts. However, gifts of fried chicken are not going to help you snag this position. I know you recognize that most of the staff and management in this department are black, and you know we like chicken, but wait until you’ve gotten the job to bring some in. We may have to revoke your ghetto pass and instead issue you a “Dayum that was gangsta” pass for that move. Also for future reference, if you’re going to bring in fried foods, make sure it’s in a container other than a brown paper bag. You had your bag sitting on your lap for so long that the grease from the chicken seeped through the bag onto your pants. Please address that situation. No, you didn’t get the job.
It’s an everyday hair struggle for a black woman, trust me I know. Some days, whether you have natural or relaxified hair, no matter what you do it just doesn’t look right. For this reason, many women have wigs to cover the mess up so they can look presentable in public. You should have worn one today, because I was embarrassed for you when you showed up wearing a headscarf with your hair still wrapped underneath. You were laughing with the receptionists, but sweetie, they were laughing at you. And so was I. That’s why I was five minutes late coming out to greet you after I was first introduced to you. Girl, I know that scalps get itchy sometimes too, but you didn’t need to take your scarf off, pull a bobby pin out of your wrap and proceed to dig in your scalp during the interview. I would have been fine not seeing that. You could have excused yourself to the bathroom. I’m forwarding your resume to the Wig Warrior Salon. They need your head as a model. No, you didn’t get the job.
We’re a pretty casual set during the summer months, so we like to lay back more than other times. We enjoy pulling out the grill and having fun. But man, not THAT kind of grill. I’m sure that platinum and diamond contraption in your mouth is removable, you should have taken it out. No excuses. Unless it’s orthodontic, take that mess out when you’re trying to get a job. I want to see how you speak and communicate, not how well you can imitate Paul Wall. You sound like you have a speech impediment with that shit in your mouth. Apparently you can’t spell, because your name as engraved in your grill is spelled differently than what’s on your resume. And I know you know it too, because you informed me that the spelling on your grill is the correct spelling of your gov’t name. Do you think you got the job?
Bishop Don Magic Juan wears suits, Jesse Jackson wears suits, lawyers wear suits, and Denzel Washington wears suits. Now you know as well as I do that the types of suits are different. Let’s get “Sesame Street” so we can figure this out. Sing with me now, “One of these suits is not like the other ones, one of these suits just doesn’t belong…” If you don’t get it, pimp suits are not the same as corporate suits. There is no need for a bright blue pimp suit, black cape, furry fedora hat, and a cane when coming for a job interview. The only thing that looks professional about you is the tailoring. Leave the silly swagger in the car. You look like a Supafly I’m Gonna Get You Sucka reject. The jheri curl under your fedora drips offensively. Fix that. No, you did not get the job.
Again, interviewees, I don’t like being so harsh. But I also don’t like watching people embarrass themselves in public. I really hope you know better than this, and were just having fun with this interview although I’m 99% sure that’s not the case. Perhaps this is why you’ve been out of work for so long. Allow me to clear up any misunderstanding, you did not get the job. Do not call me and ask me if I’ll reconsider either, because I’ve already advised you. I wish you the best of luck in your job searches.
Cordially,
Tasha
