So, I had an interview yesterday evening at a themed type of restaurant that looked like a lot of fun. The summer time is packed with bikers and old car collectors and anybody else coming through East Tennessee. According to the owner, it's a great place to work. (Like she'd tell me anything else?!)
BFF went along with me, and in fact she is the one that found the ad for the job in the first place. We knew that with it being an interview on site, we were more likely to land the job. We are so irresistible.
Well, I used to be....Now, I'm mature.
Let me explain. BFF is 5 years younger than I and never had children. She's bubbly and sweet and energetic. I can pretend to be for 8 hours a day. But, I'm really not so energetic. I'm really not so bubbly anymore either.
BFF had her interview first. I could hear it. The owner seemed impressed, BFF said all the right things and even made the owner laugh a couple of times. I could tell she was happy with BFF. This sent my heart soaring. I'm just as people oriented as BFF and I could SO use the tips that come with waitressing/serving. Seriously. Desperately.
Right after BFF it was my turn. I smiled big, I shook her hand, looked her in the eyes. I spoke clearly and loudly. Not too loudly, but you definitely do not have to lean your head to hear my voice, okay? She seemed impressed but said this;
"I am looking for servers, but I'm also needing a good host. Would you want to do that?"
"I could host, though the majority of my experience is with serving."
"I need someone mature enough, which you obviously are, to handle the flow of customers and to be the first and last person seen at the restaurant."
*Smile Big* "Okay."
"I do cross train."
"I would love that!"
"Great, I'll be making calls this week and training starts on Monday."
"Wonderful, look forward to hearing from you."
Then BFF and I compared notes. She mentioned all the fun stuff and how much servers make in tips to BFF. No, she did not mention any of that to me. Bands? UFC Fight night? Hmm. Nope. Just talk of maturity.
Then it hit me. I mean hit me like a ton of bricks and I know it's cliche, but that's SERIOUSLY how it felt. That woman interviewed me and said mature, what she meant was OLD. She doubted my ability to be a perky waitress that runs all over the restaurant. And I'm a damn good waitress, honey.
What a bitch.
Okay, not really. I'm overreacting due to my own insecurities. But.....
I've been licking my wounds all night.
Then, CJ came through for me. As my eyes welled with tears and I explained the whole, old vs young and obviously next to BFF I'm OLD and OMG I'm OLD!
"Oh, honey. You just get better with age."
I prefer fiction.