Fired!
I decide not to wait for Kelsey. I eat a quick microwaved meal and proceed to the address Karen provided. It is a newly-opened establishment located two blocks from the business district. I enter the revolving door and scan the place. Business appears slow, despite being almost noon. The waitresses are dressed in red miniskirts, red vests, and black form-fitting undershirts.
I ask for the manager. One of the waitresses points to a side door. I knock and the door bursts open. A red-haired woman in a grey business suit stares at me in surprise. Her facial expression swiftly turns from one of irritation to one of apology. "Yes, customer service? Is it about Jess again?"
"Ah, I'm here for a job opening?"
"Uh oh. Well, come in and fill up these forms," she says as she hands me a couple of sheets. I squeeze into the tight space and starting filling up my personal information. "My dad runs this place," she says. "I'm Cindi," she grins shyly.
"I'm John," I reply nonchalantly, intent on completing the forms. "You mean, I'm accepted, just like that?"
"Yes. We actually need one more for general maintenance-- stocking supplies, repairing tables, delivering orders, stuff like that. You have a driver's license, don't you?"
"Sure."
"Everything's slow at this time, but by mid-afternoon, things will heat up." Cindi explains. "There," she says, pointing to a dresser, "pick a red vest from the top drawer." I check for one my size then follow her to the back of the building. She points to a couple of tables. "Some customers complained yesterday about those tables being uneven. We had to stuff some table napkins underneath to keep them level."
"Where are the tools?" I ask.
"Check that box," she says, pointing to a corner. "I'll just send for you if other task have higher precedence." I nod as I head for the toolbox. In no time, I have repaired two tables. I hear someone approach, so I stop and face the newcomer.
It is one of the waitresses who is walking towards me. A pensive mood seems to permeate around her. "Yes?" I ask.
"You're John, right?" she asks. I nod as I read the name "Brenda" on her tag.
What does she want?
I ask for the manager. One of the waitresses points to a side door. I knock and the door bursts open. A red-haired woman in a grey business suit stares at me in surprise. Her facial expression swiftly turns from one of irritation to one of apology. "Yes, customer service? Is it about Jess again?"
"Ah, I'm here for a job opening?"
"Uh oh. Well, come in and fill up these forms," she says as she hands me a couple of sheets. I squeeze into the tight space and starting filling up my personal information. "My dad runs this place," she says. "I'm Cindi," she grins shyly.
"I'm John," I reply nonchalantly, intent on completing the forms. "You mean, I'm accepted, just like that?"
"Yes. We actually need one more for general maintenance-- stocking supplies, repairing tables, delivering orders, stuff like that. You have a driver's license, don't you?"
"Sure."
"Everything's slow at this time, but by mid-afternoon, things will heat up." Cindi explains. "There," she says, pointing to a dresser, "pick a red vest from the top drawer." I check for one my size then follow her to the back of the building. She points to a couple of tables. "Some customers complained yesterday about those tables being uneven. We had to stuff some table napkins underneath to keep them level."
"Where are the tools?" I ask.
"Check that box," she says, pointing to a corner. "I'll just send for you if other task have higher precedence." I nod as I head for the toolbox. In no time, I have repaired two tables. I hear someone approach, so I stop and face the newcomer.
It is one of the waitresses who is walking towards me. A pensive mood seems to permeate around her. "Yes?" I ask.
"You're John, right?" she asks. I nod as I read the name "Brenda" on her tag.
What does she want?