To answer your question: yes, people try to cheat. This doesn't bother me as much as you might think, other than the fact that it ends up wasting five or ten minutes of everyone's time. The sad truth about pre-employment drug testing (or any drug test which gives you time beforehand to prepare) is that they aren't so much testing for drugs as they are intelligence. Anyone with even passing knowledge of how the process works (for example, anyone who reads my blog) can, with the slightest bit of reasoning, work out how to cheat.
So, whenever I come across a cheater, I'm a little disappointed. The process can't catch the people who cheat successfully (how would we ever know?); we only see the people who didn't bother putting more than four minutes of thought into how they were going to sneak one by us. It's the equivalent of watching some numbskull uselessly pushing against a door that is labeled "pull".
Stupid Name not only didn't have a good plan for cheating -- if that were the extent of it, he wouldn't really be noteworthy. What made Stupid Name extra special was that he actually managed to botch his already-doomed-to-fail plan.
The collection started smoothly. Stupid Name seemed eager to get the thing over and done with, and I was eager to be rid of him and move on to the nine people waiting in line behind him. I'm finishing up his paperwork as he's in the bathroom when I hear the curious sound of liquid hitting the floor. Not the tssssss of a careless man peeing on the floor, but rather the kssssshhhhh of someone spilling the contents of a bottle.
Stupid Name opens the door and pokes his head out. "Hey dude, you got a mop or somethin'? I missed the bowl."
I tell Stupid Name that I'll take care of the mopping afterwards. He opens the door, steps out, and sets a half-full cup on the counter. His shirt has a huge wet spot on it starting at his collar and ending just above his gut. There's an enormous puddle of urine on the floor of the bathroom about two feet away from the toilet. Why, it almost looks as though someone were standing with his back to the commode, pouring liquid from one container into another, and spilling it all over himself.
Before I can point out to Stupid Name why this is unacceptable, he offers up this useful information: "Sorry, I kinda peed on myself."
Explaining to Stupid Name why I won't be taking his sample is actually none too difficult. He's pretty embarrassed by the fact that he screwed up. The odd sound is enough to merit a second collection. Stupid Name packs his things and leaves the office.
Oh, and his sample was colder than room temperature. Which means even if he weren't a moron and hadn't botched his flawless scheme, I still would have caught him. Dude was foiled from both ends. Once he's gone I set about mopping up his mess, then call the next person waiting. Going to be a long-ish day.
Just now I've been informed that Stupid Name is back, willing to try again. As soon as we get permission to do a witnessed collection from his employer, he'll get his chance. I haven't seen him yet but I hope he's at least changed his shirt.
So, whenever I come across a cheater, I'm a little disappointed. The process can't catch the people who cheat successfully (how would we ever know?); we only see the people who didn't bother putting more than four minutes of thought into how they were going to sneak one by us. It's the equivalent of watching some numbskull uselessly pushing against a door that is labeled "pull".
Stupid Name not only didn't have a good plan for cheating -- if that were the extent of it, he wouldn't really be noteworthy. What made Stupid Name extra special was that he actually managed to botch his already-doomed-to-fail plan.
The collection started smoothly. Stupid Name seemed eager to get the thing over and done with, and I was eager to be rid of him and move on to the nine people waiting in line behind him. I'm finishing up his paperwork as he's in the bathroom when I hear the curious sound of liquid hitting the floor. Not the tssssss of a careless man peeing on the floor, but rather the kssssshhhhh of someone spilling the contents of a bottle.
Stupid Name opens the door and pokes his head out. "Hey dude, you got a mop or somethin'? I missed the bowl."
I tell Stupid Name that I'll take care of the mopping afterwards. He opens the door, steps out, and sets a half-full cup on the counter. His shirt has a huge wet spot on it starting at his collar and ending just above his gut. There's an enormous puddle of urine on the floor of the bathroom about two feet away from the toilet. Why, it almost looks as though someone were standing with his back to the commode, pouring liquid from one container into another, and spilling it all over himself.
Before I can point out to Stupid Name why this is unacceptable, he offers up this useful information: "Sorry, I kinda peed on myself."
Explaining to Stupid Name why I won't be taking his sample is actually none too difficult. He's pretty embarrassed by the fact that he screwed up. The odd sound is enough to merit a second collection. Stupid Name packs his things and leaves the office.
Oh, and his sample was colder than room temperature. Which means even if he weren't a moron and hadn't botched his flawless scheme, I still would have caught him. Dude was foiled from both ends. Once he's gone I set about mopping up his mess, then call the next person waiting. Going to be a long-ish day.
Just now I've been informed that Stupid Name is back, willing to try again. As soon as we get permission to do a witnessed collection from his employer, he'll get his chance. I haven't seen him yet but I hope he's at least changed his shirt.
No comments:
Post a Comment