Your grocery store wants to hire me

Can someone explain to me why I can't get a normal job interview? I walked into your local grocery store for the interview the other day, after spending about 2 hours geekilly filling out an application on one of those ubiquitous employment kiosks so many businesses are going to.

I knew right away I would get a job offer. My female interviewer asked me to shut the door behind me when I walked in. I think that's when she turned on the sex music. Maybe the sex music was already playing.

As with most interviews I've done recently I was bombarded with inappropriate information from a prospective employer.

• Most applicants who want a job paying Wal*mart wages are unable to read
• the job interviewer's mother is a "functional" alcoholic for the last 35 years
• If hired I will replace the girl at the front desk "who can't calm down."
• the interviewer is single
• the interviewer has an ex-husband who left her, but he worked for the company, so when he left, she thought she'd get job there too (can we say stalker?)
• she "really likes me" she doesn't want to lie about that
• I had to submit to some kind of DNA oral drug test- now the FBI knows everything about me

Is This The Dénouement?***

Denny's: The Interview Part Two

I did not ride the bus to the interview this time. I got a ride from a friend. I know what you are thinking. Things are looking up for me already. I would just like to remind you that I am getting driven to a second interview for a job that comes with all the free hair nets you can ask for.

I am greeted by the same server as last time. She asks if I want water "again." I guess that means she recognizes me.* Like I am some kind of rock star. Now I know what it feels like to be Britney Spears. Except I almost never have the desire to wear pink panties in public. I would wear them at home but my ex-girl friends tell me that my ass is too big.

I wait 10 minutes for Javier to stroll out from the manger's office behind the hallway. He tells me that he "didn't know I was coming for an interview" and that the General Manager "never mentioned me." Not even once. Nothing at all about me wearing clown shoes to the interview. ****

Once again I am not really interviewed. I get asked one standard question about how to deal with bad customers. Javier spends the rest of the time telling me how bad employees are these days.

"We used to think that only teenagers were irresponsible, but I know 40 year old servers who used to be managers that call in late all the time. They are always getting flat tires or going to funerals."

I was completely taken aback by Javier's use of the Royal We and with his inability to comprehend 40 year old managers that get busted down to server taking time off to visit dead family members before they get placed underground.

I think Javier just wanted to make sure I wouldn't make any racial comments. "Denny's is famous for that." He tells me. I am not sure if he is proud of that fact or not. But I look really white today. Khakis and dress shoes make me look middle aged. And white people are racists. So I am glad Javier checked me out for that. I told him I had a Mexican drive me to the interview. So I think he knows that I like Mexicans. I did not tell him I was married to a Mexican for 6 short months. Because Mexicans don't like it when White Men marry their women.

Javier did not offer me the job. But he did tell me that he would talk to the manager who forgot about me. I know you are all hope that I don't get the job. So I can keep going on this series of interviews. But that's because you have it out for me.

*I get it you know me. I'm famous. 37 people read my blog every other day. You know I like to I like to drink water when it is hot outside. And that I feel too guilty to ask for a free coke at an interview and yes that means I've got "issues." But what celebrity doesn't?

*** If I left this title as a comment on your MySpace I am recycling it because I am lazy.

**** Instead I wore my "fancy" dress shoes.

***

I've been Tagged by a monkee.

1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. (You’re not the boss of me!)
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog

1. I like sunflower seeds, but no longer eat them.
2. Every road trip starts off with a bag of Funyuns.
3. I did this list because I like monkee man not because I like being tagged.
4. I can't think of any talents

I'm getting close to hired, because what you really want to read is a Denny's blog.

I won't do that. Waiter Rant is already funnier and more popular than I will ever be. Since they are so popular I am not going to link to them. So even though I won't turn this blog into the Denny's Rant I can tell you that getting hired at Denny's is a lot more of an ordeal that you might think.

I've dropped off applications, made phone calls and stopped by to set up an interview. I took the bus today to the interview even though Denny's is a bike a ride away. I didn't want to get sweaty for the first of two interviews that I must complete over the next two days. It was 103 outside.

You can take one of two bus routes to get to Denny's. The one I took drops you off short of the restaurant by three blocks, couple that with my 15 minute walk to the bus stop the dollar and twenty five cents I just paid the transit system is fools money.

The bus drops me off near a gas station and I get out and attempt to cut across the parking lot. I stumble and fall into a ditch covered in gravel. I slip no less than 3 times trying to get up. Suddenly my life is like some lame I love Lucy slapstick comedy. The bus driver stops the bus and opens the slide door. She yells out at me, "Are you ok?" A man stares at me strangely after he hears me mutter "my life is full of indignity like this."

The bus driver keeps asking me if I am OK. She doesn't get that she is only making things worse for me, by drawing attention to what loser I am. My shoes are now scuffed and dirty. And now I know I have the bus for an audience. The bus riders stand up to get a good look out of their windows. They saw me hop on the bus for a good 30 seconds, then jump off at the first stop, and now I can't seem to stand up without tumbling into a ditch.

Go the fuck away.

I finally make it to the Denny's. I get seated by the lone server who walks back to get the manager. Before she leaves me she asks if I want a soda or tea. I ask for a water. She returns with the water and a straw and a concerned look on her face. "Here is your water." She says. Then she pulls out a straw and asks if I want or need a straw. "We aren't really supposed to give you a straw, but if you want one you can have it."

I tell her "it is ok and I don't need the straw." She seems relieved. I don't know what kind of pressure the staff is under here about straws but it has me concerned. The manager sits down in the booth across from me. She is in her late 40's or early 50's. She looks just like every waitress in every Denny's or every truck stop you've ever been to. Only she doesn't seem as tired. Actually she looks refreshed. Like she just woke up from a nap.

She asks me If I have any experience and I tell her a little. Which is not a lie. She asks why I would want to be a server. I tell her I am a people person. Which I guess is a lie. That's when she basically ends the interview. "I hate interview questions, don't you?" I agree with her. And then she proceeds to give me every reason in the world to not take this job. She mentions the low pay and difficult work hours.

What really gets me is that I will have to provide my own uniform in the sum of 40 dollars for a black shirt my own tan pants. I get the money back after I quit I am told. I guess this is supposed to give me relief. They aren't stealing my money. Just hijacking it for the entire duration of my employment with Denny's.

The manager asks me one more question. "Can you take productive criticism?" I tell her "if it's productive." I have no idea why I emphasize the last word. The manger was testing me. She tells me a story about another Denny's. This Denny's has a staff with tattoos and lazy people. A staff of Mexicans who won't serve Hispanics. Even when spoken to in Spanish.

As the General Manager of 11 Denny's around the tri-state area she will not tolerate laziness or heavy tattooed people working for her. I inform her that I think tattoos are a fad. That I secretly detest the hipster wanna be's that get them. And I tell her that I am not the least bit lazy. Which I guess is a big lie.

But I did put on my size 11 workplace casual shoes for her. They are a size to large for me. I did not notice it until a week after I bought them. I really could not afford them, but I bought them anyway. I thought I would get a lot of use out of the shoes. I figured they would get me to stop wearing flip flops and sandals with my jeans.

My exGF hated me when I wore the flip flops instead of real shoes. Most of the time I wore flips anyway. And when she asked me why I did it I told her I forgot to wear shoes. Anytime I wore real shoes I told her I wore them just for her.

I don't usually wear my Doc Martens because I don't like them, but I did for the interview. I feel uncomfortable in my new shoes. But these shoes are Doc's so they will last me for years. I can't buy new shoes 'till these are ripped and torn. So instead I just keep wearing my flip flops with jeans. I'm 36. A good 15 years to old for that look. Also I am sure only women are supposed to wear flips and jeans. And I think that look went out at least 3 years ago. I'm so far behind in the times. It's not my fault girls get all the "cute" looks in fashion.

So fuck you all. I will wear my flips and jeans. And you can go screw yourselves. I have a really "intense" egg menu to go memorize.

Pray I get the Dunkin Donuts Job

I spent a good part of the day looking for a job today. Some of you look for jobs the old fashioned way. You look in the paper, go to an employment agency or you ask a friend about job openings.

Well I am not like that. I live in the Ghetto. Like most of the Circle K's around me.

ME: "Are you guys hiring? I'd like to get an application if I could."

Clerk of the store: "Um..we ain't got applications...just a forms to write your name and number down."

Me: "OK. So could I get that?"

Clerk: "Oh. No, we ain't got any of those either. Here, just take a sheet of paper and write your name down."

I went to a couple of convenience stores and donut shops. At all three stores the same thing happened. Exact same thing at the local Dunkin Donuts. Only there the clerk was cross-eyed.

"Are you sure you want to work here?" Asked the cross-eyes donut seller. He looked me up and down with his good eye. His look seemed to say, you look a little white and shiny to take this job, you ain't gonna stay long. "If so just write your name on this receipt tape and I will pin it on the bosses door."

I regret placing a real phone number down. "Why?" Asked my roommate. "Are you worried he won't give your number to the store manager? I bet if you brought a resume to the store you'd get the job."

The last thing I need to get a job there is a resume. No way they hire anyone with a resume.Resumes are reserved for white collar jobs and bankers. And the only thing this donut guy knows about bankers is that if play Monopoly don't be the banker. Bankers have to count money. And that provides your friends plenty of targets to ridicule your math skillz. Unless you want to cheat at monopoly by hiding those orange colored 500 dollar bills under your side of the board when no one is looking.

My roommate is convinced I am wrong. But I know better. Dirty, cross-eyed, retarded, wipes sweat on clothes, forget to wash? That's what gets you hired, in the Ghetto. Also I don't have anything mean to say about the corporate cunt at a local "pizza" other than you still work at a pizza place. Just because you dress like Stacy from What Not to Wear doesn't give you the right to frown down to the ugly people. You are not fooling anyone with that corporate gear. All that said I still think you are cute. And I like peperoni on my pizza. So don't get pissy and remember me in August "when you start hiring."