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Natalie
“Oh, wow, you’re, like, really pretty.”
I smile across the table as Brandi, the 24-year-old interviewer beams at me. The sound of shrieking children fills the air and I shift in the plastic-coated booth.
This is my own personal hell. I must have done something unforgivable in a past life. I wish I’d come back as a cockroach instead, the ones I can see scampering up the corners of this place look well-fed at least.
“Thank you,” I say sweetly and Brandi nods aggressively.
“So, like, for your first question, I wanted to ask if you’ve ever, like, worked by food before?” ‘By food’? As in, near it?
“Do you mean, have I worked in the restaurant industry before?” I ask, trying not to sound condescending.
“Oh my gosh, that’s, like, such a better way of saying it,” she laughs. “I love that! Yeah, theindustry? Have you worked in the industry?” This poor girl probably didn’t even manage to get a degree from Des Moines community college.
“When I was younger,”even younger than you, “I did work in the industry, yes. My family had a summer home, and I worked a couple months out of the year at an establishment that sold ice cream.”
Itwasa sweet gig at the time. Rollerblades and little plaid skirts. All the popular girls wanted to work there. Girls, as in teenagers. And now, I’m an adult. Yet, here I am.
“Oh my God, that’s great! Wow! Okay! So then, okay, next question is: if you were to pick your favorite Dino’s dinosaur, which would you choose, and why?” She asks this question very seriously.
I take a deep breath and scan the menu. Each meal is themed by a different beast from the Mesozoic era. The question itself is humiliating, but nothing compared to answering it.
“Ah… I suppose if I had to choose, I’d go with… Tally the Triceratops—”
“Not Timmy the T-Rex?” she asks, alarmed. Have I said something wrong?
“Oh, well, I thought I’d avoid those tiny arms. It’d be awfully difficult to manage a team if I couldn’t reach my clipboard,” Brandi bursts out laughing, and I force a chuckle. I wish the meteor would crash through already.
“Oh my God, really had you pegged for the T-Rex. You’ve got this, like, energy, you know? Like you’d be on the prowl like ameat-eater,you know?” She says this knowingly, though I’m not sure I understand the reference.
“Okay, so we’re almost done! Ummmm, okay, we didindustryquestion, dinosaur question, umm right! Okay, so if some customers were unhappy with their mammoth meal, what would you say to them to make sure they have the best Dino experience?”
“Well,” I start. At least this is sort of a normal question, right? “I’d check with the servers first to understand what went wrong and assess from there. If possible, I would comp their meal —” Brandi’s eyes go huge, so I adjust.
“Or try to placate the customer by offering a discount on our services, or perhaps a dessert?” Brandi looks awestruck. But that’s also her resting face, so I have no idea what this means for me.
“That’s like, the best answer I’ve ever heard. Except the part about comping meals, we try really hard not to do that, okay? Wow, okay so, Natalie?” She’s looking at me expectantly, so I nod.
“You’ve got the job! She reaches her hand across the sticky table and we shake hands. I feel numb.
I got the job.
I think, ultimately, it’s worse than if Ihadn’tgotten the job. Brandi calls Tabitha over and I swear they’re almost twins.
They both smile broadly at me, and Tabitha asks for a hug, which I politely decline. As we’re walking out, Brandi thanks me for coming in, and says she’ll be in touch with more info about theirindustry.Just before I turn to go, she leans in close to me.
“We’re really excited to have you here. You’re, like, kind of famous.”Uh-oh.
“Thank you —” I start, but Brandi cuts me off.
“So, now that we’re working together, you gotta tell me. How do you look so good naked at your age?” It is an absolute triumph that I make it out of there without slapping her to death.At your age.How much humiliation can one woman stand?
I slump my way back to the shithole (as I’ve so fondly coined it) ready for an adult beverage and whatever’s left of the ice cream. If this kind of dinner keeps up, I’m not gonna look so greatat my age.
I open my computer as I veg out, and my spoon falls from my hand.There’s another photo.Holy fuck, there’s another photo! This time, it’s in this apartment!The shithole!I look to the window, and, even through the grime, I can see sunlight.
Am I gonna have to live under a rock with blackout curtains my whole life?
