“Good morning Mr Nausea”
“Call me Boab”
“Erm, ok. Good morning, erm...Boab”
“Mornin’, pal”
“Erm, yes...I’m Brian Scudbook and this is my colleague Marjory Pumpyknickers. We’d like to ask you a few competency-based questions: twelve in total…”
“Christ!”
“Yes, rather a lot I suppose. Firstly from Marjory. Erm...Marjory?”
“Thanks, Brian. Good morning, Boab”
“Mornin’ Marjory, hen”
“Erm...yes, first of all, can you tell us about a time when you dealt with a challenging situation?”
“Erm… do you mean like somebody wanting to fight me. A square-go like?
“Ahem, not exactly. An unexpected obstacle that you need to find a solution to. In the workplace or in life generally”
“Aw right, aye. When that Lady Di got killed I didnae get my giro the next week cos aw the postmen stayed aff fur the funeral. That kind of thing? Pure mortified so ah wiz. Couldnae buy a bevvy an’ aw there wis on the telly wis a bloody funeral”
Brian and Marjory glance at each other in puzzlement and not a little amusement. A fly lands on a computer screen somewhere in Argentina and no-one cares.
“And how did you deal with that situation? What action did you take?”
“Well, Marjory. Luckily I’d done a few extra sperm-donoring shifts an’ even mair luckily they’d pit that money intae ma account, so everything wis sweet. So I guess you could say that wis ‘handy’ karma, know whit ahm sayin’?”
Brian and Marjory were both secretly glad that this was being recorded on film and couldn’t wait to show it at the Christmas party.
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