I am working for McDonalds. I don't think I am actually working there, but I just have this feeling of 'I can't believe I'm working at McDonalds.' I try and hide it from my friends, but it's like this uncontrollable feeling of shame. I'm sure actually working at McDonalds isn't quite as bad as I make it out to be in my mind. I wake up early and lie in bed for about an hour thinking. My interview is at 12pm and at 10:30am I realise I don't have anything ready. I look through my clothes and think about what I am going to wear.
I get out of the bath and dry myself and brush my teeth, looking at myself standing in front of the mirror, naked. I look at my nipples. I once found a really long hair on my right nipple and was terrified with the thought of having hairy nipples the rest of my life, or having to save up to get electrolysis on them or something. I pulled it out with one of my tweezers, follicle and all. One hasn't grown since.
I get dressed in black leggings, black undershirt, blue checked flannel dress and a grey cardigan. I think to myself this looks good! Good interview clothing.
It's 11am. I make breakfast and earl gray.
I get the 11:24am bus into town. The buses are infrequent really, hourly. Always late too. I look at my watch when I sit down and the bus starts pulling away: it's 11:29am. I still have plenty of time, but my mind is a mess. My thoughts about interview questions and answers are spinning round in my head. I count my breathing for a minute to try and calm myself down. 16. A second minute. 14. I press the button and the bus pulls over.
I step off the bus, sun shining in my eyes. I figure I may as well get to the interview early and start walking towards the café.
It's busy when I get there. I start to wonder why they decided to hold the interview at lunch time on a Saturday. There's a queue at the counter, so I wait in line before telling one of the baristas that I am here for the interview. I'm fifteen minutes early anyway. He is friendly and tells me to take a seat wherever and the manager will come and see me in a bit. I look around the café and there is nowehre to sit – everywhere is taken. I stand to the side of the counter and try and stay out of peoples way, but people seem to get confused and ask me if I am waiting for anything. I blush and say no.
Eventually, the manager comes through a black door, She is a woman in her mid-30s, I guess. Business like in a post-hippie/free spirit sort of way. Confident. She strides up to me and says Hi, shaking my hand vigourously.
'Come through here with me.'
She takes me through the black door and into a narrow corridor. Abstract pictures of coffee beans and stovetop espresso makers are on the walls. She leads me up to a door with a metal sign fixed to it: MANAGER. She takes a key from her pocket and unlocks the door.
'Take a seat,' she smiles, ushering me into the room. There are two seats: one is a big comfy-looking computer chair behind a computer desk; one is a chair from the café. I contemplate the computer chair for about a second, then sit down in the one obviously meant for me.
'Did you get here alright, parking wasn't too bad was it?'
'Ah no, I got the bus.'
'Oh excellent. You live near-by then?'
'Yeah, just outside town really.'
'Right, so first of all, I'd just like to let you know that there's been a lot of competition for this position. We had over fifty applicants and out of that we're only interview 10%. So don't feel too bad if you don't get the job!
'The way this interview is structured, I don't know if anyone explained to you on the phone, but what we do is I'll give you a formal interview for twenty minutes and then you will actually work the floor for forty minutes. Is this okay?'
'Yeah.'
She leans down on the desk to write something.
'I will have to write down all of your answers, so don't worry if I seem a bit unresponsive. It's all part of the interview. Okay? And then afterwards we'll talk briefly about how it went and you can ask me any questions. Now, before we begin, do you have any questyions that you want to ask me?'
My mind is utterly blank. I don't even know if I'll make it through the first question. But the questions begin. I answer automatically.
'Right, excellent,' she says. 'And now as a last question: if your friends or co-workers could describe you in three words how do you think they'd describe you?'
I pause. One by one people come to my head. They're being interviewed in a dark police cell. Being asked questions about me. They're being interviewed on the local news saying what I was like after I was killed by a sex offender.
EX: Stubborn
ANT: Flat chested
SARAH: A good listener
MUM: Un-ambitious
MOZART: ???
'Um…I have no idea, I guess… reliable.trustworthy, and… funny?'
'Okay.'
'No wait, that sounds silly, I mean…'
'Don't worry,' she says, 'Good, okay. Do you want to come with me and we'll get you an apron and a shirt?'
I get up out of the chair and a drip of cold sweat runs down the side of my body. I shake my head and tell myself to stop thinking so much. I tell myself I am not living in the moment.
I get out of the bath and dry myself and brush my teeth, looking at myself standing in front of the mirror, naked. I look at my nipples. I once found a really long hair on my right nipple and was terrified with the thought of having hairy nipples the rest of my life, or having to save up to get electrolysis on them or something. I pulled it out with one of my tweezers, follicle and all. One hasn't grown since.
I get dressed in black leggings, black undershirt, blue checked flannel dress and a grey cardigan. I think to myself this looks good! Good interview clothing.
It's 11am. I make breakfast and earl gray.
I get the 11:24am bus into town. The buses are infrequent really, hourly. Always late too. I look at my watch when I sit down and the bus starts pulling away: it's 11:29am. I still have plenty of time, but my mind is a mess. My thoughts about interview questions and answers are spinning round in my head. I count my breathing for a minute to try and calm myself down. 16. A second minute. 14. I press the button and the bus pulls over.
I step off the bus, sun shining in my eyes. I figure I may as well get to the interview early and start walking towards the café.
It's busy when I get there. I start to wonder why they decided to hold the interview at lunch time on a Saturday. There's a queue at the counter, so I wait in line before telling one of the baristas that I am here for the interview. I'm fifteen minutes early anyway. He is friendly and tells me to take a seat wherever and the manager will come and see me in a bit. I look around the café and there is nowehre to sit – everywhere is taken. I stand to the side of the counter and try and stay out of peoples way, but people seem to get confused and ask me if I am waiting for anything. I blush and say no.
Eventually, the manager comes through a black door, She is a woman in her mid-30s, I guess. Business like in a post-hippie/free spirit sort of way. Confident. She strides up to me and says Hi, shaking my hand vigourously.
'Come through here with me.'
She takes me through the black door and into a narrow corridor. Abstract pictures of coffee beans and stovetop espresso makers are on the walls. She leads me up to a door with a metal sign fixed to it: MANAGER. She takes a key from her pocket and unlocks the door.
'Take a seat,' she smiles, ushering me into the room. There are two seats: one is a big comfy-looking computer chair behind a computer desk; one is a chair from the café. I contemplate the computer chair for about a second, then sit down in the one obviously meant for me.
'Did you get here alright, parking wasn't too bad was it?'
'Ah no, I got the bus.'
'Oh excellent. You live near-by then?'
'Yeah, just outside town really.'
'Right, so first of all, I'd just like to let you know that there's been a lot of competition for this position. We had over fifty applicants and out of that we're only interview 10%. So don't feel too bad if you don't get the job!
'The way this interview is structured, I don't know if anyone explained to you on the phone, but what we do is I'll give you a formal interview for twenty minutes and then you will actually work the floor for forty minutes. Is this okay?'
'Yeah.'
She leans down on the desk to write something.
'I will have to write down all of your answers, so don't worry if I seem a bit unresponsive. It's all part of the interview. Okay? And then afterwards we'll talk briefly about how it went and you can ask me any questions. Now, before we begin, do you have any questyions that you want to ask me?'
My mind is utterly blank. I don't even know if I'll make it through the first question. But the questions begin. I answer automatically.
'Right, excellent,' she says. 'And now as a last question: if your friends or co-workers could describe you in three words how do you think they'd describe you?'
I pause. One by one people come to my head. They're being interviewed in a dark police cell. Being asked questions about me. They're being interviewed on the local news saying what I was like after I was killed by a sex offender.
EX: Stubborn
ANT: Flat chested
SARAH: A good listener
MUM: Un-ambitious
MOZART: ???
'Um…I have no idea, I guess… reliable.trustworthy, and… funny?'
'Okay.'
'No wait, that sounds silly, I mean…'
'Don't worry,' she says, 'Good, okay. Do you want to come with me and we'll get you an apron and a shirt?'
I get up out of the chair and a drip of cold sweat runs down the side of my body. I shake my head and tell myself to stop thinking so much. I tell myself I am not living in the moment.
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