The Man Who Always Got Fired
Poor old Seamus McGillicuddy shrugged his shoulders in complete surrender. This was his 4th job in as many days, and he had made a firm promise to himself that he would not screw things up this time.
Monday, he was taken in as an assistant pharmacist over at Murphy’s but they let him go that very afternoon when he mixed up the delivery orders and sent a box of condoms over to the nuns at St. Peter’s.
Tuesday, he was allowed to help out in Clinton O’Bannon’s garage, but did not last half the day when he emptied a gallon of detergent into the motor of Mr. Williams’ Volkswagen. “He asked me to clean the engine, you know”, muttered Seamus as he left Clinton’s office, scratching his bald head.
The next day, Patrick Malloy, son of the baker John Malloy (God rest his soul), took pity on Seamus and let him help out at the stockroom. Now as rotten luck would have it, beside the Malloy Bakery stood the Reading Porcelain Parlor; and stocks for both stores were always delivered on the same day, at the same hour. And so it happened on that Wednesday, Seamus McGillicuddy, as he often did, completely shut off his brain and proceeded to retrieve a sack of gypsum from the Reading truck. His eyes lacked any sign of life as he cut open the sack and poured its contents into a mixing vat, threw in a pound of sugar, some eggs, and a couple of sticks of butter. Patrick swears he heard his father cursing the nails off of his coffin as he rolled in his grave. Seamus did get a loaf of sourdough for his trouble.
Thursday. A new day brings new hope. Right. A fancy new spa had just opened and they needed someone to make promotional leaflets and give these out to people all over town. Luckily for them, Seamus was in search of employment so he willingly took on the job for a quarter of the typical pay. Lunchtime came and the excited manager was more than delighted to see a long queue outside the spa. He rushed outside to meet the patrons, and became suspicious that something was not quite right. Patron number one stammered terribly, the second gentleman had a lisp that would shame a snake, and the next customer complained of awful handwriting.
“Seamus!” he snarled “Did you make the leaflets as I told you to? Did you emphasize our massage therapy services?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Manager Man, sir. I sure did!”
“Give me one of those” said the now fuming manager. He looked at the leaflet and bowed his head, not much different to how someone who lost a relative in a war would.
“Come to the Old Country Spa! We specialize in MESSAGE THERAPY! Be one of the first twenty customers and get a 50% discount!”
Monday, he was taken in as an assistant pharmacist over at Murphy’s but they let him go that very afternoon when he mixed up the delivery orders and sent a box of condoms over to the nuns at St. Peter’s.
Tuesday, he was allowed to help out in Clinton O’Bannon’s garage, but did not last half the day when he emptied a gallon of detergent into the motor of Mr. Williams’ Volkswagen. “He asked me to clean the engine, you know”, muttered Seamus as he left Clinton’s office, scratching his bald head.
The next day, Patrick Malloy, son of the baker John Malloy (God rest his soul), took pity on Seamus and let him help out at the stockroom. Now as rotten luck would have it, beside the Malloy Bakery stood the Reading Porcelain Parlor; and stocks for both stores were always delivered on the same day, at the same hour. And so it happened on that Wednesday, Seamus McGillicuddy, as he often did, completely shut off his brain and proceeded to retrieve a sack of gypsum from the Reading truck. His eyes lacked any sign of life as he cut open the sack and poured its contents into a mixing vat, threw in a pound of sugar, some eggs, and a couple of sticks of butter. Patrick swears he heard his father cursing the nails off of his coffin as he rolled in his grave. Seamus did get a loaf of sourdough for his trouble.
Thursday. A new day brings new hope. Right. A fancy new spa had just opened and they needed someone to make promotional leaflets and give these out to people all over town. Luckily for them, Seamus was in search of employment so he willingly took on the job for a quarter of the typical pay. Lunchtime came and the excited manager was more than delighted to see a long queue outside the spa. He rushed outside to meet the patrons, and became suspicious that something was not quite right. Patron number one stammered terribly, the second gentleman had a lisp that would shame a snake, and the next customer complained of awful handwriting.
“Seamus!” he snarled “Did you make the leaflets as I told you to? Did you emphasize our massage therapy services?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Manager Man, sir. I sure did!”
“Give me one of those” said the now fuming manager. He looked at the leaflet and bowed his head, not much different to how someone who lost a relative in a war would.
“Come to the Old Country Spa! We specialize in MESSAGE THERAPY! Be one of the first twenty customers and get a 50% discount!”
posted by CSG at 3:25 PM
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