Robin and Me

So much in my head. So much. Too much, perhaps. Let's see how it all comes out.

I got a job yesterday. They hired me on the spot. It went something like this:

My original plan included hitting every service restaurant within walking distance. That includes Ruby Tuesday [Hooray for salad!], The Green Turtle [although, can you see me working in a sports joint?], Bailey's [which to me just screams, "Consume a lot of alcohol!"], The Longhorn [but, I am not that country [regardless of what you may think]], and The Red Robin [BIG Burgers served at the speed of light].

As chance would have it [or God] I chose to make Red Robin the first stop on my journey. I sauntered in [not really, I can't saunter] and requested an application from the hostess. Now, I had the spent 20 minutes prior to entering the establishment realizing that this was the one and only time I did not have a pen handy. And of course I needed one. The hostess didn't seem to mind, though. She lent me hers [oh, crap, did I steal her pen?!].

Anyhow, I filled out the paper, which I found to be refreshingly short and to the point [one page front and back] and strolled back up to the hostess stand. She kindly asked if I would like to speak to a manager. She was so nice. It is my personal belief that the majority of hostesses do not come that way and I found her friendliness a pleasant surprise. I said yes, I would very much like to speak to the man in charge and she wandered off to retrieve him.

I took this opportunity to inspect the premises. Sadly, I think my nerves might have been in control of the situation because I am at a loss to describe to you what I saw. I do remember a mild mannered red-headed man, wearing what could only be referred to as "spectacles," quietly eating his lunch by the bar. I remember him because a moment later the hostess reappeared with an "oh silly me" smile on her face. She walked up to the man and handed him my resume. I was a bit taken aback.

Had I known that the manager had been in my presence while I completed my application I may have done things a bit differently. As he read over the paper he had just received it suddenly occurred to me that I was staring at him.

I began to pace nonchalantly. I walked up to the door, then over to the hostess stand, and then again to the door. I slowly turned to make my way back to the stand and there in front of me stood the Mild-Mannered Man. He introduced himself and shook my hand. I made a point to give him a firm handshake. It's not really my style, but I know it matters. We took a seat and began to make small talk slash discuss my qualifications. I don't really remember the conversation, except that I felt I'd made a good impression. He told me he wanted to get another manager and excused himself. At that moment I had a fantastic revelation.

I realized that I am fairly good with shy people [most of them anyway [and particularly in the professional realm]]. I am good at drawing people out of their shell. My bubbly personality sparkles in the light. On the other hand, I tend to be intimated by loud personalities. I am easily overshadowed and uncomfortable with the idea that I don't know what is about to happen next. Wow, I thought, what luck that the Mild-Mannered Man had been my interviewer.

Just then I saw another man approaching. He wasn't much bigger than the Mild-Mannered Man, but I could tell by his fast pace and the slightly wild look in his eyes [I could see even from across the room] that he did not share the same demeanor.

"Hello!" He boomed, reaching out to shake my hand, "How are you!"


I firmly gripped his hand and shook it solidly, just as I had done with his co-worker. I sat down trying not to show that I was bracing myself. My application had revealed that I was about to be a bride and we chatted about that, about my availability and other things of that sort.

"So," He said suddenly, devilish smilecrept upon his face, "A DWI, huh? Wow."

I smiled sheepishly, taking a deep breath and preparing to begin my shpeal.

"Yeah, well, I definitely learned my lesson," I began.

"Oh yes, me, too. That's about the same time I got mine." He laughed. Very nice.

We chatted for a while about the regulatory stuff. Eventually he morphed into manager mode.

"Why should I hire you as opposed to the next person who walks into the building?" He inquired. Oh, good grief. These questions are always a joy.

I thought for a moment.

"Hmm." I said, trying to keep a smile, "Well, um, I'm bubbly. And I'm reliable. And, um . . ."

I could see that the standard way of answering this question was not doing it's job. Let's take a different approach.

"You know what?" I stated with all the boldness I could muster, "I'm good. I'm really good. People like me, I like serving them. It just works."

My answer was met with another devilish smile. He turned his head toward the bar and called out to the woman working behind it.

"Can you please bring me a menu?" He asked. She obeyed. He smiled at me. "Prove it." He said. "I'll be back in two minutes, sell me something from the menu."

Oh crap.

That's not exactly what I meant. I wasn't talking sales. I was saying I wouldn't screw up their order and I'd remember to refill their drinks. No matter. Apparently it was game time. I scanned the menu. What would I get? Oh, yes. That's it. I didn't need two minutes. He sat back down and I took a deep breath.

"So," I smiled, pretending not to hate role-playing, "Have you tried our Whiskey River BBQ Burger?"

"No," He lied, for the sake of the experiment.

"Well, I'd like to recommend it. You see the secret to a good BBQ sauce is to throw in some alcohol. Seriously. It sounds funky, but it adds just the right tang. And this burger comes with our bottomless steak fries seasoned just right. You can't go wrong."

"I like your confidence." He said. It's all a facade, I thought, hoping I hadn't been stuttering. "You're hired."

Sweet! I think it was the handshake.

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I had planned to talk about all of the other things happening in my life right now. Too much. This has been fun, but alas, the good times must eventually end. This apartment isn't going to clean itself.