She's got a story you can't see...
The nadir of my background life has happily (or unhappily - also a reasonable label) coincided with a sudden upswing in auditions, my invitation to participate in a weekly improv show, and my invitation to take a comedy intensive that will eat the first two weeks of November (six hours of class every Saturday, three hours of rehearsal Sunday through Friday). For these reasons, I found myself seated opposite a rotund middle aged black man at my interview for the position of server at The Cheesecake Factory, panicking as the seconds ticked by, my brain refusing to yield anything appropriate, watching as said middle aged man began to show marked signs of impatience.
Let's rewind a bit. Up until this point I was an interview rock star. I arrived over half an hour early, looking ultra cute in a casual black blouse and pink circle skirt splattered all over with black roses. I jumped up to open the door for a woman pushing a stroller and carrying either a pterodactyl or a baby (I honestly don't know...and were I blind, I would have proclaimed it without doubt to be the former). I chatted cheerfully with a fellow applicant while everyone else stood around examining their shoes. I knew one of the hosts from set. I turned in my completed application (picked up Friday afternoon) while everyone else was just starting to fill in their names. I was golden.
And then the questions started. Now, as you might have noticed from the above paragraph, I was prepared. I searched the internet and had answers for all of the questions that anybody has ever been asked at a Cheesecake Factory interview.
But I didn't have an answer for this one:
MAN: What would you say is your greatest work achievement?
ME: You mean in the service industry?
MAN: Any work.
ME: Uh....Hmm...At work... Well...*desperation ensues*
In the end I horribly fumbled the question and watched hopelessly as he checked off a sentence I couldn't see the entirety of but that began: "Cannot prove..."
After bungling the rest of the interview horribly, I drove home in tears, breaking the law by calling Zack and my mom for consolation and wiping my nose on my arm as there was not a paper product (excepting headshots) to be found in my car. They reminded me that there are other jobs out there, that The Cheesecake Factory is not the only place to wait tables in LA. But that wasn't really the point. Besides the fact that I need money NOW, it was the fact that this entirely mediocre man had decided that I "cannot" do something. That I "cannot prove..." what? That I've achieved something at a job? That I can carry a tray full of food to people with a smile? I had already proved that I could be relied on to be early, that I was friendly, helpful, prepared, neat, attractive. But because I couldn't answer that stupid question I wasn't good enough for him?
And the main problem was this: my greatest achievements are probably far and away above anything that sad man has ever dreamed of doing, but nobody paid me for them. What would I have said my greatest achievements were, if that caveat of "at work" hadn't been applied? (And let's clarify that despite being paid for acting and performing musically, that doesn't count as "work" to anyone as boring as the Cheesecake Factory manager.) What are my greatest achievements? Three years fighting prejudice as the only female member of the Council Rock Little League. Biking 100 miles across Pennsylvania with 80 lbs of camping gear strapped to the back of my bike. Running for 80 minutes straight because my soccer coach couldn't afford to take his best fullback out of the game. Getting a 4.0 my sophomore year of high school by sheer force of will. Traveling around Europe playing my bass at youth orchestral festivals. Making it through the hardest month of my life after Andy died. Being accepted to Parsons on scholarship after only four months of art lessons. Graduating magna cum laude after the extraordinarily inauspicious start of my college career. Moving to LA without knowing a thing about what I was getting into. Going to auditions several times a week in the full knowledge that I will more than likely not book this one, or the next, or the next... Staying here a year despite the poverty and rejection I've experienced. Getting up every day.
No, none of those achievements are work-related. But do they show character? Stamina? Determination? Yeah. They show that I am more than able to carry a tray of greasy food to a table of people and smile while I do it. How could anything I've done at Payless or The Nosh compare to these achievements? They simply can't. And NOTHING Sir Lackluster could ask me to do at the Cheesecake Factory could ever measure up, either. So fuck you, Mr. Mediocre, and fuck your serving job. If you want to lob questions completely unrelated to the position at me, that's your prerogative. Because I will take my hard-working genius ass elsewhere, and you'll get some dip-shit who had some pedestrian answer to that question ready for you. I hope y'all are very happy together.
And to my friends: comment and tell me your greatest achievements. Because we don't think of them often enough, and it feels GREAT to sit and list the most awesome things you've done. It is a pretty powerful shield to hug your accomplishments tight around you, and watch rejection bounce off like so much chaff. What have you done?
Let's rewind a bit. Up until this point I was an interview rock star. I arrived over half an hour early, looking ultra cute in a casual black blouse and pink circle skirt splattered all over with black roses. I jumped up to open the door for a woman pushing a stroller and carrying either a pterodactyl or a baby (I honestly don't know...and were I blind, I would have proclaimed it without doubt to be the former). I chatted cheerfully with a fellow applicant while everyone else stood around examining their shoes. I knew one of the hosts from set. I turned in my completed application (picked up Friday afternoon) while everyone else was just starting to fill in their names. I was golden.
And then the questions started. Now, as you might have noticed from the above paragraph, I was prepared. I searched the internet and had answers for all of the questions that anybody has ever been asked at a Cheesecake Factory interview.
But I didn't have an answer for this one:
MAN: What would you say is your greatest work achievement?
ME: You mean in the service industry?
MAN: Any work.
ME: Uh....Hmm...At work... Well...*desperation ensues*
In the end I horribly fumbled the question and watched hopelessly as he checked off a sentence I couldn't see the entirety of but that began: "Cannot prove..."
After bungling the rest of the interview horribly, I drove home in tears, breaking the law by calling Zack and my mom for consolation and wiping my nose on my arm as there was not a paper product (excepting headshots) to be found in my car. They reminded me that there are other jobs out there, that The Cheesecake Factory is not the only place to wait tables in LA. But that wasn't really the point. Besides the fact that I need money NOW, it was the fact that this entirely mediocre man had decided that I "cannot" do something. That I "cannot prove..." what? That I've achieved something at a job? That I can carry a tray full of food to people with a smile? I had already proved that I could be relied on to be early, that I was friendly, helpful, prepared, neat, attractive. But because I couldn't answer that stupid question I wasn't good enough for him?
And the main problem was this: my greatest achievements are probably far and away above anything that sad man has ever dreamed of doing, but nobody paid me for them. What would I have said my greatest achievements were, if that caveat of "at work" hadn't been applied? (And let's clarify that despite being paid for acting and performing musically, that doesn't count as "work" to anyone as boring as the Cheesecake Factory manager.) What are my greatest achievements? Three years fighting prejudice as the only female member of the Council Rock Little League. Biking 100 miles across Pennsylvania with 80 lbs of camping gear strapped to the back of my bike. Running for 80 minutes straight because my soccer coach couldn't afford to take his best fullback out of the game. Getting a 4.0 my sophomore year of high school by sheer force of will. Traveling around Europe playing my bass at youth orchestral festivals. Making it through the hardest month of my life after Andy died. Being accepted to Parsons on scholarship after only four months of art lessons. Graduating magna cum laude after the extraordinarily inauspicious start of my college career. Moving to LA without knowing a thing about what I was getting into. Going to auditions several times a week in the full knowledge that I will more than likely not book this one, or the next, or the next... Staying here a year despite the poverty and rejection I've experienced. Getting up every day.
No, none of those achievements are work-related. But do they show character? Stamina? Determination? Yeah. They show that I am more than able to carry a tray of greasy food to a table of people and smile while I do it. How could anything I've done at Payless or The Nosh compare to these achievements? They simply can't. And NOTHING Sir Lackluster could ask me to do at the Cheesecake Factory could ever measure up, either. So fuck you, Mr. Mediocre, and fuck your serving job. If you want to lob questions completely unrelated to the position at me, that's your prerogative. Because I will take my hard-working genius ass elsewhere, and you'll get some dip-shit who had some pedestrian answer to that question ready for you. I hope y'all are very happy together.
And to my friends: comment and tell me your greatest achievements. Because we don't think of them often enough, and it feels GREAT to sit and list the most awesome things you've done. It is a pretty powerful shield to hug your accomplishments tight around you, and watch rejection bounce off like so much chaff. What have you done?