:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::

:: Friday, February 08, 2008 ::

:: Job Search: Day 1 ::

Today was my first job hunt in about two years and considering just how well it went the last time I wasn't really expecting much.

After I got home last night, I sat in my chair for a minute, still a little numb. Oddly, I wasn't worried about my finances or my living situation as much as I was wondering what The Hostess is going to think once she arrives at work and discovers I was fired. Stupid, right?

Anyway, I snap out of it, and start typing out last night's post. It's about 7:20 and I decide to go play some tennis to blow off some steam. So far, my mental state has gone from shock (I'm fired? Over that?) to denial (they'll call me in a couple of days because they'll be short-staffed) to acceptance (whatever, I'll be fine. I started hating that place anyway). But while walking to the park, acceptance slowly boiled into fury (if they're going to fire me over that shit, fuck them). During warm-ups my first few forehands flew to the back of the fence without bouncing. As much as I tried, I couldn't get that day's events out of my head and it got to me. Bad shots seemed that much worse, near misses didn't seem close, and even my good points made me angrier (why can't you play like that all the time you hack?) It's a miracle I never had an ulcer. Oddly enough, that anger seemed to fuel my inner Federer and I actually played well, considering.

I come home and take an extra-hot shower hoping it would clear my head. I sat at my desk, opened up my resume and begin updating it. I finish, move on to the cover letter, finish that, and head over the Kinkos. Then I check out Craigslist for any possible leads. An Open House at the Raleigh Hotel looks promising. It starts at noon, which is perfect. It's located up on Collins and 18 and after, I can make my way down Lincoln Road and see who’s hiring. I'll grab a New Times (new issue every Thursday) on the way over and see what they have in the back.

I leave and walk briskly towards Washington. Two blocks away, I realize I forgot to bring a pen. I don't remember if I wrote about this, but many times at my last job, applicants would often walk in asking for about work in less than professional attire. Many times they wouldn't even have their own pen, and several waiters took the liberty make a note on the application regarding that error. I never did that but I found it annoying.

And now here I am without a pen.

I stop by LeeAnn drugs and buy a nice Pilot rollerball and it was the best $2.50 I spent in a while. Once at the Raleigh, I walk up to the counter and ask about the Open House. The desk clerk gets a pained look on his face and tells me that someone other than the hotel posted the ad as a prank and that there is no Open House. Okay, what the FUCK. "Are you still hiring?" "Yes, you can fill out an application and someone from human resources will review them." Fine. I take my application outside and fill it out in the patio, enjoy the warm weather and the cool breeze, while wondering what the hell my immediate future holds. When I walk back inside, the lobby is filled with applicants and the poor clerk's look went from pained to constipated. I staple my cover letter, resume, and application together and turn it in, then turn to the lobby to get a look at my "competition." It's mostly guys, and most of them showed up wearing jeans and T-shirts, and a few are sporting caps. I only notice two other who brought separate resumes. There are a couple of girls, one who's dressed professionally, and another who looks like she's about to clubbing, sporting some very nice cleavage. It's then I think to myself, "maybe I'll be okay."

The only thing I've had so far that day was some grapes and a can of Rockstar. I'm more thirsty than hungry so I go to Burger King to with my New Times, grab a soda, and see what's available. There's a few promising leads and I tear out the pages and head to stop number two.

Number two is another Hotel on James Ave. Their only opening is for a part-time bartender, but I apply anyway. Nothing remarkable about that place except this: when I walk into their spacious lobby, it's filled with women. Attractive women. Hot women. Everywhere. And I'm the only dude. I've had dreams like this. The least pretty would rate as "yeeaaah, give me two drinks and I'd do her" while the hottest rated as "I would drag my balls through a firepit just to hump her shadow." I don't know what they were doing there (other than the fact that maybe God hates me... I don't even know what that means) but I focus on my task at hand. I get an application, fill it out, attach my papers, and walk out. As I'm walking out, I notice a bleach-blonde Latin chick looking at me. When we make eye contact, she smiles and I smile back... and I almost walk into the doorframe. Smooth, Dan-E. Very Smooth. You idiot.

The next stop would be the most fruitful. It's at another hotel on Collins, and unlike the Raleigh, their Open House ad was legit. I'm there five minutes early and grab an application, but the guy doesn't show up until about 2:40. In the meantime, I'm chatting up a couple of girls who are also there to apply. There's a friendly blonde that seems promising (so much for focus) and I'm making progress until the interviewer finally shows up. Asshole. He turns out to be a friendly enough guy. At first it's only four of us so he does group interviews. My first question is what goes into a Long Island Iced Tea (vodka, gin, rum, tequila, a splash of sour mix and coke, lemon wedge garnish... but I forgot the Triple Sec. I don't know why but I always forget the Triple Sec.) He asks me to make the ultimate margarita (2oz. of a good, Añejo tequila, fresh juice of two limes, 1oz. Gran Marnier; on the rocks with a salt rim. You need a salt rim. Don't argue with me.) Suddenly, our foursome triples in number and he sits us all down and addresses us all on what the company is doing, and what he expects of us. He'll does a quick one-on-one with us, and the blonde goes first. I'm next. We go through my job history, he asks if my name is really spelled "Dan-E," and a few other things about serving and bartending. I guess he likes me enough that he tells me he'll call on Saturday to let me know when I can start training.

SCORE!

I'm stoked. I shake his hand vigorously, and I walk away with a big smile. Awesome. Hired on the spot. It was about 3:15 when that happened and it's when Gay Wingman finally wakes up and calls me to ask how I'm doing. I tell him what happened and he's happy for me.

Not much else happens at the other places I apply at. I stop by an Italian place, a sports bar, a regular bar, and a beer and wine bar. Once I reach Alton Road and head towards home, I check my phone, which I kept on "silent" the whole time.

Remember my buddy, who offered me a job as a supervisor and works at an Irish tavern? I called him the night before just to ask him if he had any openings. He left a couple of texts, saying no promises, but I'll see what's available. When it's all said and done, he ended up telling his boss about me, and she wants to meet me. And now I have an interview tomorrow at noon at his restaurant.

This is awesome. It's nice to have options. Though if I end up working a the Irish place, I'll have to buy this guy a beer. Or maybe a bottle Jack Daniels. Whatever, he's good people. We'll have to wait till the weekend to see what happens. I can't wait.

Labels: bartending, cheeseburger, job search, moving on, the gay wingman, waiting, whiskey

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:01 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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