a new job
Living off of some saved wages from Unspeakably Boring Corporate-type Job and the settlement from getting hit by a trucker only lasts so long, as wonderful as it is to feel independently wealthy. So, after paying my rent this month I realized that it was time for me to get a new job.
My job search consisted of me considering my options. Having been rejected from the one paying job I really wanted to do (in arts administration - maybe one day I'll be happy I didn't get it), I figured I really had only one option left: serving. So. There is the French Meadow, the Bryant Lake Bowl...and lots of other places that probably wouldn't want me either. And even to get those jobs I'd have to go in, charm someone a little bit, fill out an application (oh yeah, dusting off those resumes and bringing some along would probably be a good idea), and then wait. Probably have to follow up (yuck!). And even if I got X job, I'd have to train and blah blah blah.
So in the end my job search consisted of riding my bike past the French Meadow - which looked too busy to apply at right then - and past Soba's, where I waited tables until April. I couldn't help but notice that (having the high turnover that they do) the good old "Help Wanted' sign was in the window.
Well, I thought, they want help, I need money. I wouldn't have to train...hmmmmmmm. I guess I never hated it there.
You guessed it. I went in, talked to one of the owners, gave her my number. I didn't know if she would call, but she didn't keep me guessing for long. Within an hour I had a serving gig lined up for Sunday, baby. A little too soon, honestly, but servers can't be choosers...so I guess the search is over.
My job search consisted of me considering my options. Having been rejected from the one paying job I really wanted to do (in arts administration - maybe one day I'll be happy I didn't get it), I figured I really had only one option left: serving. So. There is the French Meadow, the Bryant Lake Bowl...and lots of other places that probably wouldn't want me either. And even to get those jobs I'd have to go in, charm someone a little bit, fill out an application (oh yeah, dusting off those resumes and bringing some along would probably be a good idea), and then wait. Probably have to follow up (yuck!). And even if I got X job, I'd have to train and blah blah blah.
So in the end my job search consisted of riding my bike past the French Meadow - which looked too busy to apply at right then - and past Soba's, where I waited tables until April. I couldn't help but notice that (having the high turnover that they do) the good old "Help Wanted' sign was in the window.
Well, I thought, they want help, I need money. I wouldn't have to train...hmmmmmmm. I guess I never hated it there.
You guessed it. I went in, talked to one of the owners, gave her my number. I didn't know if she would call, but she didn't keep me guessing for long. Within an hour I had a serving gig lined up for Sunday, baby. A little too soon, honestly, but servers can't be choosers...so I guess the search is over.
posted by fashion skool at 9:45 AM
2 Comments:
i thought they just randomly took you off the schedule? i guess you're back on. good for you. you're hired again at the place where you didn't even know you were fired.
you rock.
were you really hit by a trucker?
mom doesn't tell me anything.
Congrats on the job - it's a good place to work as a server I've been told by a friend of mine - let's call here Suz-to-the-double-e. Also, thanks for the post on the ol' Sino blog (marew.blogspot.com). The wifey and dis guy are on safari for jobs in MPLS now.
Peace.
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