"Character" reference, indeed!

So, on my machine the other day is a message from a lady who works for a company in a city far, far away (well, far for in-state, so deal with it). She identified herself, stated that a friend of mine had given her my name as a reference for a job, and politely requested a call back. Delighted as I always am to help this particular friend out, I eagerly returned this woman's call the next day during my break.

Cathy (at least that's how I think she would spell her name: with a "C," not a "K") stated that my dear friend was applying for a job with her company, and she was delighted that I could get back to her so quickly. Would I consider myself a work reference, or a character reference?

I quickly decided that any opportunity to bullshit and pretend that I was my friend's superior at some time in our lives in an effort to bulk up his/her status and increase her/his chances of employment may go horribly awry, so I told her I would be more of a character reference. This is a transcript of the conversation:

Cathy: So, how long have you known Pedro*?

Me: Ah, shit, you're going to make me remember that far back? Ah. Shit. Uh, I suppose we met in college, so... (stopping to count on my fingers in a whisper while on the phone) Um, almost ten years?

Cathy: Great. What can you tell me about Daphne?

Me: Yeah. Cleophilus is great. I mean, a wonderful friend, and a great person. Dependable.

Cathy: Good, good. What would you say are Jojo's strengths?

Me: Well, ah, Cathy, ah, Mitch is super. I mean, punctual as shit, hard working, focused. And so fucking talented! Swear to God, the other day, we were hanging out, and that bitch let one rip, and... Christ, it sounded like fucking trombone, like that note they play at the circus or on vaudeville, to end on a silly note, or something. Yeah, make that vaudeville. I can't stand the fucking circus.

Cathy: Okay...

Me: I mean, that asshole can make farts sound magical.

Cathy: Right.

Me: You know what I'm saying? And they don't, like, smell, I mean, like, fucking ever.

Cathy: I see.

Me: And fuck clowns!

Cathy: Okay, moving along. Next question: Would you say that Nina is particularly organized?

Me: Oh, shit yeah. You know, in college, money's real tight. You're always broke, right?

Cathy: (chuckling lightly) Oh, yes. I remember.

Me: For some of us, that's still the case, right?

Cathy: Absolutely!

Me: Well, Captain Jerkoff here, so damned organized. And entrepreneurial. Bastard figured out that the usual ways to make money, like getting your parents to pay for a meal plan, or donating plasma, or selling back your books, wasn't going to cut it for a desirable lifestyle.

Cathy: Really?

Me: So, genius figures out that not only selling crank, but making it yourself in the convenience of your own dorm room not only made you tons of cash, but saved you the risk of traveling around campus to peddle your wares! Too many stupid-ass bike cops.

Cathy: Ah...

Me: Everyone in your hall was buying, and eventually, those fuckers were so strung out, they didn't notice if you came in, ate their food, borrowed shit. It was awesome. I got this sweet-ass football jersey once. 'Course, there was that one time that our friend No-Neck accidentally singed off his pubes while one particular batch went south, but, ah, he got over it. Especially since that bitch had enough money from the "operations" that he could buy himself a merkin. Did you know that they actually sell those?

Cathy: What?

Me: Merkins.

Cathy: What?

Me: You know, pubic wigs.

Cathy: What?!

Me: Well, yeah. And we were calling that whole deal the "operations" all the time. We were so gay.

Cathy: Well, I think I've heard all I need to hear about your friend today.

Me: Are you sure? 'Cause I've got, like, ten more minutes on my break, and I can definitely tell you some more shit if you want.

Cathy: No, that's okay. I think we can figure out the rest from here.

Me: Well, can I just say one more thing about Ol' Poodle Ball?

Cathy: (pauses for a few moments) Yes, (relenting) I guess you can...

Me: Great! I was just going to tell you another way Bitchcakes is talented.

Cathy: Oh?

Me: Sure. I've already mentioned that Bridget is focused, hard-working, entrepreneurial, musical... but there's another talent I'd like to share with you. I think it speaks volumes for the kind of person Felix is.

Cathy: (warily) Yes?

Me: Well, the thing is, this asshammer has screwed every size, shape, shade, and species up and down the coast, like a sailor on the last shore leave of his natural life. And, I'm telling you, and you're not going to believe this, but it is fucking impossible for this kid to contract any STDs!

Cathy: Excuse me?

Me: Seriously. I mean, Lucas here has had a fair share of questionable ass... and they've definitely all had some sort of rash or parasite, or something... Well, maybe except for that professor's kid. That kid looked pretty scrubbed up. But you will seriously find no flies on this idiot! Protected or no, fucker's always enjoyed a clean escape, and consequence-free partners. Wish I could say the same for the rest of us!

Cathy: Right. Well, I think I should let you go now...

Me: I'm not joking. It's like Shithead has "Jesus Clearance," or something.

Cathy: (speaking rapidly) Okay, well, I thank you for your time.

Me: Oh, it's no problem. I hope Boo-Boo Kitty Fuck gets the job! A total asset to any company!

Cathy: (phone clicks)

(*said friend's name changed multiple times to protect his/her own ever-crumbling dignity)

I can't wait to find out if Oscar gets hired!