Have you applied for a job lately? My male staff has. Yes I know he already has one, by day he's a mild mannered reverse people smuggler, but at night he hopes to become a supermarket replenishing operative. (Shelf Filler) Having four guinea pigs to feed and house is an expensive business, so he's hoping to pick up a few hours and dollars stocking shelves to even out the times when not so many people want to be smuggled. But honestly, all he has to do is wheel a few pallets of boxes of tinned vegetables or whatever from the warehouse to the shop floor, and since its one of those supermarkets that don't even bother with shelves he just plonks the pallet down and goes to get another one. There's no need to stack anything or put individual items neatly in a display. Just stick it where it's supposed to go and let the punters fight over it in the morning when the shop re-opens. However, for this he's already had a group interview, there were eight in his group, all of which had to introduce themselves to the other interviewees and the Area Manager who was conducting the interview. I assume this stage is to weed out the applicants who are obviously unsuitable for the work. For example quadriplegia would be a definite disadvantage. Those who are clearly dangerously insane, drug crazed or have a face full of steel and tattoos are usually referred on to McDonald's.
Anyway, my male staff didn't fit into any of the above categories and so was contacted by the supermarket chain's Area Manager the day after the group interview. He congratulated him as though he'd just won the lottery and said that he'd made it through to the next stage - a thorough medical. He was then told that if he passed the medical he will have an individual interview. "Wow!" thought my male staff. "An individual interview with the Area Manager. "I'll be sure to bring along my autograph book." Of course what he actually said was "Oh fantastic, thank you very much."
That same day he received a form by email entitled "Pre-employment Medical" It went on for pages and pages. In fact my male staff is going to send the supermarket and invoice for the cost of a new ink cartridge for his printer. There was a list of every illness known to man and some that my male staff thought only dogs contracted. He had to put a tick next to any disease that he had ever suffered from and list any operation he'd ever had during his entire life. He then had to detail any residual side effects from that operation. He'd only ever had one operation so he used all the space available on the form to describe it. He'd had his tonsils removed when he was four years old, he stated. The surgeon had promised that after the operation, if he was a good little boy he would be given ice cream to soothe his throat. He's still waiting for his ice cream fifty three years later. The side effect of this betrayal is that nowadays he can't walk past an ice cream shop without diving in and buying the biggest one he can find to make up for the trauma of the surgeon's deceit.
So anyway my male staff turned up for his medical last Thursday, and as you know he rarely goes anywhere without at least one guinea pig secreted about his person. On this occasion it was Alfie. He's a big boy so my male staff had to choose a pair of trousers with capacious pockets. This done they set of in the Getz for the doctors surgery with Alfie sitting on a towel on the front seat with his red eyes firmly closed so as not to have the bush chocolate scared out of him by my male staff's driving. He'd still feel the bumps as they went off road across median strips and ploughed fields as my male staff's feeble concentration was distracted by various animals, ("Oooooh look Alfie, what a beautiful cow.") but at least he wouldn't be able to see the looks of horror on the faces of the other road users' and various livestock's as the Getz approached.
Leaving behind the usual trail of chaos and destruction Alfie and my male staff arrived safely at the surgery and Alfie was thrust into my male staff's front trouser pocket, the one that didn't contain his wallet. Alfie can't be trusted not to chew things. He then checked his appearance in wing mirror of a nearby Toyota Corolla to ensure the lump that was in fact Alfie wasn't too obvious. This rather alarmed the driver of the Toyota - a smartly dressed middle aged lady who was sitting in the drivers seat talking on her cell phone and clearly not expecting to see a man twisting and turning in front of her wing mirror just outside her window as he admired the large, writhing lump near his groin. Before the lady could end her call and dial the police my male staff decided that perhaps his pocket wasn't really the best place after all and returned to the Getz, where he transferred Alfie from his pocket to the front of his trousers, (A place my regular readers will know that I am all too familiar with.) then he untucked his shirt so that it covered the lump where Alfie was, just below the waistband. Here there was more room for Alfie to stretch out and doze off and so by the time my male staff returned to the Toyota's mirror he was still and the guinea pig shaped lump was virtually invisible. Satisfied with this, my male staff smiled sweetly at the shocked lady and strode confidently into the doctor's surgery.
He'd barely had time to pick up a tattered National Geographic from May 1974 when he was called in. Sucking in his stomach to give the doctor the impression that he was fit and full of vitality (as well as giving Alfie a little more room) he breezed into the doctor's office. The doctor - an older, rather severe, no-nonsense lady ordered my male staff to take a seat. There then followed a series of question about my male staff's health. He pointed out that he had already answered the same questions on the "Pre-employment Medical" form which he handed to the doctor, but she said she's like to go through it again anyway. She was very concerned about hernias. Could my male staff correctly and safely lift fifteen kilogrammes repeatedly from the floor to the height of his waist? Yes, no problem. Has he ever had a hernia? No. Has a member of his family ever had a hernia? Not as far as he was aware.
"Okay." Said the doctor. "Let's have a quick look. Just undo the top of your trousers please." My male staff froze. What would the doctor think when she discovered a large white rodent down the front of his trousers? He had to think fast - not easy for him. In fact thinking at any speed can be quite a challenge, but fast...........?
"I'd umm......rather not if you don't mind."
"Why on earth not? Not shy are you man? Good heavens, it says on the form you've been married for twenty five years. I've been married for forty years myself."
"Not to me you haven't" thought my male staff but said nothing.
"Come on, let's take a look or I can't finish the medical and then you'll have no chance of getting the job."
"If you do take a look and find a rodent down there I've got no chance of getting the job anyway." Thought my male staff, but said "Well I didn't have chance to have a shower this morning, so it might be a bit sweaty and smelly down there. Perhaps I could come back another time when I've had a shower."
The doctor smiled, seeming to relish the challenge. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm a doctor, I've smelled far worse odours than your body could ever produce." My male staff doubted that, but reluctantly and slowly he loosened the top of his trousers and the doctor thrust a hand in. My male staff flinched. Her hands were cold. Without looking she pressed her fingers into his lower stomach feeling for any signs of a hernia. Her hand seemed to be down there for five or six hours, but when my male staff looked at the office clock it had been less than thirty seconds. She withdrew her hand and washed it thoroughly. "There we are" She said, "that wasn't so bad after all was it? It all seems to be in order down there. No sign of anything untoward." She hadn't noticed Alfie, thought my male staff with a flush of relief. He must have settled in further down.
There were just a couple more questions and then my male staff was free to go. He stood up and went to shake the doctor's hand. Suddenly he felt another warm flush. This time it wasn't relief. Well, it may have been for Alfie. He looked down and saw a dark, wet stain spreading across the front of his trousers.
"You'd better sit down again." said the doctor. "You didn't mention on the form that you suffered from bladder incontinence."
I'm like so glad Uncal Billy's male staff didunt chews me to go to the dokta with him. There's no way I cood have sat still four so long and I sertunly wood have had to byte any hand wot was poking abowt in Uncal Billy's male staff's trowsers. But at leest my bladda is stronger than Alfies so I woodunt have peed in there. I can't promiss there woodunt have bean a lot of bush chocklit coming owt of the bottom of his trowser legs tho. It wood have bean like the Grate Escape moovy all over again.