A not-so-smart girl was once interviewing for a job.

A not-so-smart girl (who, for once, wasn’t blonde) was once interviewing for a job. The interviewers realised in a couple of minutes that she wasn’t exactly the brainiest of the lot, but didn’t want to call the interview off without giving her her due interview-time. So they’re asking her simple questions to kill some time.

First interviewer: So, how old are you.

Girl: (starts counting on her fingers, on both hands. After a minute…) Twenty-seven years, sir.

Second interviewer: (realising the questions aren’t silly enough for her…) And how tall are you, ma’am?

Girl: (takes out an inchtape from her bag, measures herself up) Five feet six inches, sir.

At this point, the interviewers realise they’ve hit rock bottom.

First interviewer: (exasperated) OK, just tell us your name please!

Girl: (chants for some time, then lights up and says) Neha.

Second interviewer: (astonished) What were you muttering to yourself?!

Girl: I was just recalling that song – Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear… Neha!