CT l 51.6 - Interview
In an attempt to grab the handle, Ford missed the handle itself and fell into the doorway, his knuckles falling forward as well. A blonde witness who was leaving the restaurant laughed - only after giving Ford a sympathetic look. Standing up again, Ford grasped the handle, this time making sure he was looking at the door in front of him and pulled it open.
As the young psychic stepped inside the restaurant, he felt his back pocket vibrate, taking a moment to pull out his phone. Eddie had sent him a text message for good luck which made Ford smile. Tucking it away again, he walked to the hostess' area and waved at the woman who looked young enough to be in high school.
"One?" she asked, holding her finger up, and tapping her foot.
"Oh," Ford replied. "I'm here for the interview."
The woman looked him up and down and exchanged glances with a passing waitress before moving from around the podium she had been behind. Without a word or a signal, another woman took her place. Ford followed this woman, whose clipboard had said, "Joan," to the bar. She climbed onto one of the chairs at a table and motioned for Ford to do the same. He figured she meant his own chair but laughed inside thinking about sitting in her lap - and then realized how funny it wasn't.
"Name," she asked, pulling a pen from thin air.
"Uh, Ford McKenie," he answered, his hands on his thighs drumming.
"Uh, Ford McKenie," she asked.
"Ford. McKenie." He corrected himself before gulping down air. "M - C - K - E - N - I - E." It couldn't hurt to spell it out for her. She smiled, thanking him before moving on to harder questions.
"Age," she asked, which should not have been a difficult question. If only Ford felt his age. "Nineteen," he replied.
"Got it," she replied, making a note. "Past work experience?"
"Oh, I answered that on the online application," he pointed out. The young woman who looked more like a mushroom on the incredibly high chair looked up at him, a smug-humoring look on her face. "I worked at a restaurant back in Plymouth. Lone Star, also Outback for a year."
Outback was an out and out lie but Eva had faked being his manager at Outback, apparently glorifying him as her best worker. He was glad they were on good terms - that and, he was glad to be alive. If only his helpful poltergeist could have helped with the interview process.
"Uhuh," she replied, nodding. "What do you think makes you qualified for this job," she asked, tilting her head.
"Besides my -- qualifications?" he asked, sitting up a bit straighter.
"Yes, Prettyboy," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're in an interview. Sort of like, you're selling yourself - sell yourself to me, Ford McKenie."
Ford thought he could hear a hint of flirtation in her voice but decided to completely ignore that and his newfound nickname. He had a feeling if he took this job that he would hear that name a lot more.
"I'm a hard worker," he offered.
"Good," she said, smiling. "Continue," her eyebrow raising.
"I never stop until a job is done and I'm not very clumsy. I'm also personable and punctual." He nodded along to his own list about himself before hitting a blank wall at, 'prophetically dreams' and left that unsaid.
"Look, one of our waiters quit yesterday," she said, setting down her clipboard and folding her hands on the table. "You're more than qualified to host - but we have hosts. If you're open to waiting - and you do well at waiting tables then we'll see about a hosting job. Can you start training today? Are you interested," she asked.
"Yes," Ford replied, nodding.
"OK." Her calm, professional demeanor relaxed as she smiled, revealing a set of pearly whites. "Welcome Aboard, Ford!"
Ford returned her smile with one that was equally white but a lot more strained. His new manager whined and looked like she was Laura Ingalls Wilder's youngest sister. OK, probably second youngest. But he had a job now. Hopping up from the chair, she told Ford to stay there. Ford utilized this time, pulling out his cell phone, texting Eddie back the good news and then texting Eva. He couldn't have done this without her help. He owed her. Probably lunch.
He was now a waiter at Pole.
As the young psychic stepped inside the restaurant, he felt his back pocket vibrate, taking a moment to pull out his phone. Eddie had sent him a text message for good luck which made Ford smile. Tucking it away again, he walked to the hostess' area and waved at the woman who looked young enough to be in high school.
"One?" she asked, holding her finger up, and tapping her foot.
"Oh," Ford replied. "I'm here for the interview."
The woman looked him up and down and exchanged glances with a passing waitress before moving from around the podium she had been behind. Without a word or a signal, another woman took her place. Ford followed this woman, whose clipboard had said, "Joan," to the bar. She climbed onto one of the chairs at a table and motioned for Ford to do the same. He figured she meant his own chair but laughed inside thinking about sitting in her lap - and then realized how funny it wasn't.
"Name," she asked, pulling a pen from thin air.
"Uh, Ford McKenie," he answered, his hands on his thighs drumming.
"Uh, Ford McKenie," she asked.
"Ford. McKenie." He corrected himself before gulping down air. "M - C - K - E - N - I - E." It couldn't hurt to spell it out for her. She smiled, thanking him before moving on to harder questions.
"Age," she asked, which should not have been a difficult question. If only Ford felt his age. "Nineteen," he replied.
"Got it," she replied, making a note. "Past work experience?"
"Oh, I answered that on the online application," he pointed out. The young woman who looked more like a mushroom on the incredibly high chair looked up at him, a smug-humoring look on her face. "I worked at a restaurant back in Plymouth. Lone Star, also Outback for a year."
Outback was an out and out lie but Eva had faked being his manager at Outback, apparently glorifying him as her best worker. He was glad they were on good terms - that and, he was glad to be alive. If only his helpful poltergeist could have helped with the interview process.
"Uhuh," she replied, nodding. "What do you think makes you qualified for this job," she asked, tilting her head.
"Besides my -- qualifications?" he asked, sitting up a bit straighter.
"Yes, Prettyboy," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're in an interview. Sort of like, you're selling yourself - sell yourself to me, Ford McKenie."
Ford thought he could hear a hint of flirtation in her voice but decided to completely ignore that and his newfound nickname. He had a feeling if he took this job that he would hear that name a lot more.
"I'm a hard worker," he offered.
"Good," she said, smiling. "Continue," her eyebrow raising.
"I never stop until a job is done and I'm not very clumsy. I'm also personable and punctual." He nodded along to his own list about himself before hitting a blank wall at, 'prophetically dreams' and left that unsaid.
"Look, one of our waiters quit yesterday," she said, setting down her clipboard and folding her hands on the table. "You're more than qualified to host - but we have hosts. If you're open to waiting - and you do well at waiting tables then we'll see about a hosting job. Can you start training today? Are you interested," she asked.
"Yes," Ford replied, nodding.
"OK." Her calm, professional demeanor relaxed as she smiled, revealing a set of pearly whites. "Welcome Aboard, Ford!"
Ford returned her smile with one that was equally white but a lot more strained. His new manager whined and looked like she was Laura Ingalls Wilder's youngest sister. OK, probably second youngest. But he had a job now. Hopping up from the chair, she told Ford to stay there. Ford utilized this time, pulling out his cell phone, texting Eddie back the good news and then texting Eva. He couldn't have done this without her help. He owed her. Probably lunch.
He was now a waiter at Pole.