Saturday, September 5, 2009
The Job Hunt...
I have been doing the job search thing ever since my last restaurant pulled the rug out from under me giving me three days notice before I was unemployed. "Hi, employees. Today is Thursday. We are closing the restaurant on Sunday. We hate you and don't care about you and fuck you." Yeah. So I have not written about that yet too much because I am still angry, bitter, mad, vindictive and pissed off. In a word: bitchy. Anyhoo, I have been looking for the next food establishment that wants to take advantage of my full on people skills and help me spread joy across the land one table at a fucking time.
Looking at craigslist for a restaurant job is a joke. I love the places that say to send a resume because they only want people with lots and lots of experience. But send a headshot. A headshot? What the fuck is this, A Chorus Line? In other words, they only want to hire you if you're hot. True story, this: A few years ago I was applying for a server job in Chelsea were hot gorgeous men apparently grow on trees. I went into a place that had a help wanted sign in the window. I saw several guys filling out applications at the bar so I asked if I could have one. They told me they were not really hiring anymore. Hmmmm. I looked at the guys at the bar filling out applications and said, "uh, what?" What they meant to say was they were only taking applications from guys who spend their lives at the gym and have the bodies and faces of Adonnis. Now, I may not be a Greek looking God and all that shit, but I am not the fucking Elephant Man. "I am not an animal!" Whatevs with them. I want to do an experiment on craigslist someday and send in two applications for the same job and attach two different headshots. One of a hot model guy and one of a pimply ass weasel looking guy and see who gets called in. And maybe make the hot model guy's resume be pretty lame with like three months of experience but make sure his picture is a torso shot showing off his abs and chest. I'd really like to try that little social experiment, but I am way too fucking lazy to even update my own resume, so the chances that I will go through all that just to prove a point? Slim to none.
I went to an interview yesterday for this really corporate restaurant. I know how they work. I worked at the freakin' Marriott for seven years for Pete's sake. The interviewer was all dressed in Chef's whites like it was big deal or something. "Blah blah blah...what can you bring to our restaurant?...what makes you a good server?...blah blah blah." He asked me when was the last time I went above and beyond to exceed the expectations of a guest? That must be corporate restaurant question number three in the handbook. I told him about how on the last day at my last job someone left his credit card on the table. Well, I knew we were closing down and if he came back the next day we would be closed and he would never get it back. So I ran out to the street and took a chance and went South, running one and half blocks before finding the guy. He was happy and thankful. The interviewer was really impressed with that story and crazy enough it was actually true. Then he asked me to tell him about last time I found myself in a stressful situation and how I handled it. Told him some bullshit about how I "take myself out of the situation" and "breathe deep" and "ask a manager for advice." Whatever. The real way I handle a stressful situation is nothing like that. It involves a cocktail, going into the kitchen and screaming about what a fucking asshole my table is and then clicking into the realization that it's only someone's meal and it doesn't fucking matter. They will have three more meals tomorrow that can be better for them.
But I got a second interview for next week. This close to having another job that will fill me with joy and contempt. I mean contentment.
CLICK HERE IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO FOLLOW THIS BLOG