As a server, it's important to be outgoing and personable, and heaven knows I try! But gawdammit people are really trying my patience these days. As I mentioned in a facebook post, a person's need to be high maintenance in every single request is exhausting. It has recently become commonplace to request a custom tap water. For example, this evening Seat One asked for water with 4 lemon slices; Seat Two asked for water no ice; Seat 3 asked for water with ice and then asked for a straw after I brought the water to the table; and Seat 4 asked for water with ice and "a splash of bar lime".
Now I understand that I only have a job because people like to be served and you're out for dinner, you want what you want and you're willing to pay a premium for that privilege. But, it's just water, folks. It's a free beverage to help you wash down copious amounts of fat and sugar and salt. Sort yourselves out or I swear I'm going to cut someone.
"Well, Sherla, if you don't like serving people, you shouldn't be a SERVER. Get a different job and stop complaining," they say. And, by "THEY", I mean people who insist that their four-year-old say please and thank you with every sentence and yet, THEY proceed to ask me for their meals without ever doing the same.
Self-Righteous Mother: What do you want to drink, Johnny?
Little Johnny: Can I have a Sprite?
Self-Righteous Mother: No. No pop. That's too much sugar. You can have an apple juice.
Sherla: (Under my breath) Why the fuck did you ask the kid what he wants if you're just going to tell him what he can have anyway. Just order for the little prick and let's get this over with.
Little Johnny: Apple juice.
Self-Righteous Mother: Apple Juice.... PLEASE. Use your manners, Johnny!
Little Johnny: Apple juice, please.
Self-Righteous Mother: That's better. And, I'll have the ummm. Hmmmm. I don't want that, or that, or that. Ugh. I had that yesterday. I'll just take a water with four lemons and not too much ice in the biggest glass you have and make sure it's chilled.
No fucking please. No fucking thank you. And, I don't give a shit, honestly. But, don't tell your kid to do something that you aren't polite enough to do yourself.
Anyway, I DO want a different job and I have plenty of other skills so I've been shooting out resumes for everything I might be able to do for money. Convincing other people that they should pay me for these skills is another matter altogether. I just keep trying. Keep checking the job banks, Indeed, Kijiji, newspapers, death notices... I'm pretty desperate at this point.
So, I'm minding my own business, watching episodes of Kim's Convenience and thinking about how much I hate listening to the neighbour's dog trying to dig its way out of a crate upstairs, when my cell phone rings. Now, I'm not in the habit of answering my cell phone. I just don't like talking on the phone. I like texts. They're short and sweet and I can respond when I'm good and ready. But, I was hoping this call was someone who received my resume and, of course, thought I was perfect for the position of making scads of money doing something fabulous with great people and unlimited access to donuts.
The call display on my phone read "Blah Blah Blah LLP" and my brain translated that to: Someone is calling from a Law Firm. Law firms are important. You should swallow that big chunk of granola bar very quickly and answer the call. I ended up kind of grunting out the word "Hello".
"This is So-and-so from Something Something and Trenton. I'm just reviewing your resume and I wonder if this is a good time to do a brief telephone interview with you."
"Yeah, yeah now's great. I'm so free right now!" I bolted up from my couch so I wouldn't sound like was laying on my back eating granola bars.
"Great, it's just going to take about ten minutes. I'll start with..."
"I'm sorry. Did you say you're calling from Trenton? I don't live in Trenton." I interrupted.
"No. I'm calling from Something Something and Trenton. That's the name of the company. You sent your resume and I would like to do a quick interview."
Oh, of course. I sent my resume. I've just sent so many resumes... is this for the... um... legal secretary position?" At this point, I'm starting to panic. I have NO recollection of applying to a company with the name Trenton in it. In fact, I can't think of the names of any of the companies I've applied to recently. My mind goes to mush.
"No, it is a bookkeeping position that was posted on Indeed."
"Oh! Of course! Bookkeeping! I remember. Yes. It was a full-time position I applied to about... a week ago?" I still had no clue. Nothing.
"Yes, so what prompted you to apply for this position?"
Well I wish I fucking knew!! How am I going to answer this question? Can I change my mind and tell her now is not a good time? Can I just hang up and pretend I lost the call? I'll say I dropped the phone in the toilet and just call back later. No, Sherla, just be an adult and answer the questions the same way you would if you knew what law firm she was calling from.
So I did. I answered all the questions as though I was interested in working for a law firm as a bookkeeper. I even asked whether I would be working with other people in the financial department or if I would be on my own. And, when I got off the phone I felt I had done ok.
Until I looked up Something Something and Trenton... which is not a law firm at all, but rather an accounting company.
I had not humiliated myself enough at this point. I decided I would send an email to So-and-so to explain my silly mistake. She would read my witty story of confusion and have a little chuckle before calling me back to offer me the high-paying position of Jolly Bookkeeper, featuring my own corner office and morning coffee served by my assistant, Sergio.
I was daydreaming about all the perks my new job would feature when my thumb accidentally tapped the scroll bar while hovering over the send button. I had just sent an explanation email that stopped mid-sentence and would make no sense at all.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry so I did both. I contemplated sending another email insisting that I was not on drugs and to, please, not call the cops. Instead, I sent the following:
And now I have accidentally hit SEND in the middle of trying to explain that I am not a complete idiot. I'm so so sorry, Ms. So-and-so. I hope you can find this story as hilarious as I do at this point. Good luck in your search for the right applicant
She has since sent a very polite reply regarding the hazards of calling out of the blue for phone interviews, which puts my mind at ease. In future, I will not answer my phone until the caller has been fully Googled.
