All in a Day's Work

"I never did a day's work in my life. It was all fun."
-Thomas A. Edison

My Spouse was recently at an employment convention. While dining with some other recruiters he overheard a discussion about one particular would-be employee who had stopped at one of the many booths to enquire about what was on offer.
"So he came to my desk," the man near Spouse was saying, "asked about the opportunities and then handed me his resume. As he was walking away he stopped and turned and asked casually where the company was located."
According to the fellow the answer had been 'Connecticut.' At that response the man came back, swiped the sheet of paper out of the recruiter's hand and said, "no. That's too far."
I could not begin to imagine the expression on the astonished recruiter's face when the resume was so unprofessionally recalled.

One morning last year in Cambridge, Massachusetts, I was strolling about the street and waiting for my favourite thrift store to open its doors.
I was approached by a young man weighed down with a stack of magazines. "Would you like one?" he said as he pushed one into my hand. I asserted, rather redundantly, that I would.
"That'll be a dollar," he said without batting an eyelid.
"What? I don't have a dollar," I said indignantly. I am sure that I had a dollar but I was impatiently waiting for a treasure trove to open so that I might find a way to happily spend it. I had not a dollar to spend on some idle paper I knew nothing about. I had received it because he made me do so and because I thought it only polite to take the free item he was offering.
"Maybe next time, then," he said sharply, before grasping the magazine and removing it quickly from my fingers.
I did not know whether to laugh or simply be startled.
"Next time," he had said. After that maneuver, somehow, I sincerely doubt it.