I had the weirdest interview of my life on Tuesday. I applied Monday at a pizza place a few blocks away, and a couple hours later was called and asked to interview. I assumed that Viru, the person I was interviewing with, was the woman that I spoke to on the phone. Not so. Viru was a tiny old Italian man, who barely spoke English. The interview was as follows.
Him: You checked waitstaff and day cashier. Which are you applying for?
Me: I can do both, whichever you're hiring for.
Him: We are hiring everything.
Me: Okay, then waitstaff. Is that a daytime position as well?
Him: Maybe some days, and nights.
Me: Oh okay, well then I guess I'd rather day cashier.
Him: You can't work nights?
Me: I can, but I'd really prefer to work days.
Him: [reads through my experience again] Well after about 2 the cashier does cooking.
Me: [what!?] Ohhh, then waitstaff. I don't have any cooking experience.
Him: What days can you work?
Me: any weekday, and some saturdays, but not all.
Him: [writes it down] I will have to see with them [vague hand gesture that I took to mean the other waiters] about daytime waitstaff.
Me: Okay, great.
Then he gets up and puts away my application, and goes into the kitchen. No "I'll be in touch" no "goodbye" I wasn't even sure that we were finished until he didn't come back.
I had no idea whether I should take that as an "okay, I'll see what I can do" or an "okay, forget it, I'll find someone who wants to work nights."
I was in a state of constant confusion, until I went in today on my way back from knitting group. The head waiter (at least, he was the one wearing a tie) remembered me, and said not to worry, that I should hear within the week. He didn't think they'd called anyone back yet, but they would.
Okay. And he remembered me, which I think is good. Fingers crossed.
Story part two:
This is the product of my pattern where I ran out of yarn. At Linda's suggestion, I finished it, and one side is shorter than the other. However, she's right; you can't really tell when it's on. Oh well. Lesson learned: beware the free patterns.
And finally: a sneak peek. One half of my mother's pair of owl mitts. Or as she calls them "Madonna gloves."
Ten minutes later: Ok, fuck that. My card reader is being a jerk, so you don't actually get a sneak peek. Sorry.