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Ashwin Kumar Apr 2019
Being a recruiter is never easy
Hours and hours of research
To identify the right people
Followed by a truckload of calls
Every time a candidate says no
It is you, who loses
The client piles on the pressure
Your boss keeps on nagging you
Like a fly that constantly buzzes around your table
While you are having lunch
Your confidence collapses
Like a house of cards
When you pick up the phone
Your hands shake
Your face is filled with drops of sweat
Your heart beats faster than ever
You hastily key in ten digits
As you click on 'Dial'
You wait with bated breath
Counting from one to twenty
As your call is received
You mumble and stammer
The other person snaps "Wrong number"
And bangs the phone
You smack yourself on the forehead
How could you make such a silly mistake?
As you dial the right number
You summon every last ounce of your courage
As the candidate answers
In a bored and haughty voice
You introduce yourself in a suave manner
As you take him through the job
Your smooth talk is interrupted
With a rude "Not interested. Thank you"
This opens the floodgates
For more and more rejections
Until you are left, with nothing to do
But to pick up the pieces of your broken heart
Being a recruiter is never easy
Poem to vent my frustration and stress while working on a Recruitment mandate for the position of Relationship Manager.
ConnectHook Oct 2016
Italic drumroll...
imperial cavalcade with Roman horns, eagle standards raised;

♪ ♫♪♫ ♪♪♫♫♪♪♫♫♪♪♫♫♪

Ye screen-fed sacrificial citizens, seething simpletons and volatile voters:
attend now, with republican fervor, tempered by democratic zeal, to the golden-tongued orator of our epoch, gallant guardian of American greatness, avatar of avarice, the Jeffersonian gentleman, anointed autocrat and Sultan of Swell, windswept Wazir of Wonderful, emissary of towering eminence in empire, The Anti H-Rod: Donald J. TRUMP !

Plebeians look up from their circus-bread for a second—)

And may Our Sovereign Savior & Almighty God also bless his worthy opponent and adversary HILLARY (

Patricians murmur, nod; a few salute*)
Let the circus roll - (yawn)

— The End —