Yo No Comprendo

I am about to pull my hair out because I am so over the job search, but I shan't do that for my hair is far too gorgeous to pull out over a waiting job. Last week I went to a place that was, according to Craigslist, hiring. The application was so long I felt like I was writing my memoirs. It asked me to define great hospitality and then to tell a story of how I would exceed the expectations of a guest. For one thing, I think if you are eating at this place your expectations are pretty low to begin with. But I digress. I didn't have time to stay for the interview because I had another totally useless interview somewhere else that day, but the manager, Lisa, told me to come back the following day. I did. She took me to a table and we shot the shit for about ten minutes. She asked me how did I ensure a good relationship between the front of the house and the back of the house. I should have just asked her to bend over so I could blow the smoke directly up her ass. "You have to know every person's name, from the line cooks to the prep cooks to the dishwasher. It makes such a huge difference in the restaurant." She smiled slightly, closed her eyes, tilted her head to the right and slowly nodded as if to say "ain't it the truth, brother. Ain't it the truth." (Do that movement as described so you know exactly what she did.) After impressing the hell out of with my interview she said, "I wish I would have interviewed you yesterday. I really do. But I just hired ten servers yesterday and now I can't hire you. But when someone quits the training as they always do, I will call you. Thank you for coming in." I left thinking that that Lisa was a pretty cool manager lady. I also wondered what kind of place has to hire ten servers at a time. Red flag?

Fast forward 5 days and I am on Craigslist when I see the same restaurant is hiring servers. What the fuck? Did that Lisa bitch lie to my face or did she just lose my resume? I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and went back in to find out. I saw a different manager this time. I young lad by the name of Alex.

"So, do you have an application?"

"I filled one out last week and met with Lisa? She told me that she wished I would have been in earlier because she didn't need any more servers and she had already hired her quota but I saw that you're still hiring so I just, you know, wanted to see...what's up with that?"

Alex looked at me as I stared right back at him. "Oh, well, maybe if she didn't call you she decided to go in a different direction." Yeah, like the direction of inexperience.

"Really?" I queried. "Because I have 15 years of waiter experience in New York City. Am I just over qualified to work here? I just want to know. Because I keep going to interviews and not getting hired and I just want to know, for me, what I should be doing in order to get a job. Am I doing something wrong?"

"Uh...err...uhhh..I could go ask Lisa."

So he goes to speak with the lying cunt known as Lisa and he comes back to inform me that she wanted someone with Mexican food experience. Because I guess carrying a plate of enchiladas is somehow different than carrying a plate of steak. Or eggs. Or a hamburger. It's just different according to the skank of all Mexican restaurant managers, Lisa. I told Alex, "Oooh, now I get it. Well Alex, thank you for your time and good luck with the hiring." I strolled out with my head held high wishing all good things for their fantabulously craptastic restaurant. Which shall remain nameless. (Dos Caminos on Third Avenue and 50th Street.) I hope Lisa chokes on a chicken chimichanga.

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