I was trying to apply for a new job, right? And so I found, in the paper, an advert for Kirby Vacuums. It was a sales job, simple thing. So I go and apply. After my little interview, the lady shakes my hand and goes, "You're hired! Come in tomorrow at (time) for training!: D"
So I do. I come back the next day, I go to sit down in this room for training and what does the guy running the training say? That he can only fit seventeen people into his training class, and I should go home and try to call back tomorrow about it. The kicker? There were only nine people in the class. Now, I'm rather bad at math—I'm the first to admit that—but I'm quite sure that "nine" is not entirely the same number as "seventeen." I was kicked out for no reason, and the guy would not give me any explanation as to why they gave me the boot; he told me to leave.
So I called the number that had been listed in the paper and obtained the woman-in-charge's cellphone number from another lady (the only one who was ever anything resembling being apologetic or sympathetic) and left her somewhere around twenty-five voicemails over the course of a single morning, demanding answers. I never heard from them ever again! Nothing!
A rather disreputable company, from all I've heard. Then again, I really scold myself for not knowing sooner—what really honest and reputable company operates out of a hotel? And not even a fancy one—a bloody Days Inn? Well, at least I've learned from that part.
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