Cue the predictable howls of outrage from some quarters of the community who believed these folks weren’t being given a fair go, and quiet mutterings of assent from others who had seen them with their own eyes.
I seem to have interviewed, and occasionally employed, my fair share of the people Bill was referring to, and it’s that time of year again as dairy farmers recruit for the upcoming season. Hopefully I’ve had enough experience now not to repeat my mistakes, though I’ve been known to occasionally cut interviews short when it’s obvious a person just isn’t a fit for the team.
I had a young man turn up 30 minutes late for an interview. He slid out of his lowered car with the coffee can exhaust, ran his hand through his slicked back hair, popped his collar and shook my hand. I suggested that gumboots might have been more appropriate footwear than what he was wearing. He assured me that gumboots never sullied his feet unless he was getting paid.
Narcissist? Check. Entitled? Check. Employed? Not by me!
Sometimes it isn’t until after you’ve done the reference checks and actually employed someone that the cracks begin to show. A couple of years ago I received a 4am phone call from the hospital, two of my workers had been involved in a car accident and subsequently wouldn’t be able to make it to work.
It was a single car incident and they had been found on the side of Beach Road, next to their overturned car, both naked from the waist down. Understandably, neither was keen to discuss the details with me or the police. We never got to the, er, bottom of the situation.
One of the pantsless pair left quietly a short time later, and the other subsequently booked a two week holiday to Thailand. I never heard from him again.
I seem to have hired them all; the one who told me the electric fence wasn’t working because birds were sitting on the wires, the young man with gastro who thought he could make it home and not use the cow shed toilet (he couldn’t) and the two who thought a box of beer and a bottle of vodka were the correct way to limber up for milking (it’s not).
Though Bill’s Bunch are definitely out there, thankfully they’re the minority, tempered by people like the attractive lass I once hired who, it turned out, had a burning desire to milk wearing nothing but gumboots and an apron.
I always strive to put together a good team who will work well together, knowing full well that the nature of my industry means the really good ones will quickly move onwards and upwards. I take pride in watching them progress. In the meantime, I want to fill my workplace with people who always have a smile, despite the hour and the weather. The ones who burst into song while milking and dance at cups off when they think you’re not looking. The ones who always stay behind to give you a hand, or see the shed lights on at 10pm because you’re calving a cow and come to check on you.
Those people are out there. They’re young, they’re enthusiastic and they make my life easier and give me something to smile about. I’ve had enough of Bill’s Bunch, and it’s worth taking the time to do the recruitment right to make sure I never get saddled with one of them again.
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