Signs, signs, everywhere there’s signs

Gather boys and girls as I tell you about a tale of three candidates in second-round interviews, and my two personal disasters associated with each and how I will likely hire based on them.

Candidate #1: During that meeting, the hem fell out of my favorite dress.

Candidate #2: No drama whatsoever. Like, none. At all. What. So. Ever.

Candidate #3: The temporary crown popped off its post and I had to work it back into place in front of this candidate and my boss without opening my mouth lest said toof might shoot out and offend.

“Signs, signs, everywhere there’s signs.” That’s all I gotta say.

And long-haired freaky people, feel free to apply. Even if I’m deep-down a fan of the clean-cut, polished and gracious types who hold my chair for me and seem amenable to goddess-worship.

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