A story about a sucky non-customer, non-employee that I found disturbingly fascinating to watch.
So I went to a burger place for lunch the other day. Having just finished with a job interview, I was on my way to work, and I was really hungry. I stopped at a local place. It's not a big chain, so it is a little more expensive than some places. Fantastic gut-bomb burgers and fries, though.
Anyway, it was relatively slow. When I went in, there was one couple eating and one guy waiting for his order. I approached the counter and gave my order to the owner/manager. About halfway through it, he had to disappear to help take care of a minor crisis of a spill at the drive-thru window. While I'm waiting, Anxious Scruffy Guy comes in.
Anxious Scruffy Guy was interesting. Tattered jeans and a flannel shirt over a used-to-be-white T-shirt. Scraggly hair, graying beard that couldn't decide which direction it wanted to grow. And he just couldn't keep himself still! He was constantly running his hands across his scalp, jingling the change in his pocket, tapping his fingers on whatever surface happened to be nearby, tapping the toe of his boot on the floor, looking around with a facial expression somewhere between paranoia and impatience.
Anxious Scruffy Guy waited around for about a minute, twitching and fidgeting the whole time. Suddenly he gasped aloud as if he'd struck gold and lunged for a pen sitting on the order counter. His prize in hand, he grabbed one of those tray-liner placemat things, flipped it over to the blank side, and started scribbling.
I was standing right next to him, so I saw what he wrote. In huge handwriting, he had scrawled across the paper his name, a phone number that I knew belonged to the local university (recognized the prefix), the date, and the words "grill flipper."
When the owner of the burger shop finally came back, he didn't even try to hide the eye-roll he made upon seeing Anxious Scruffy Guy. Then they spoke.
ASG: Hey, man! You still hirin'?
Owner: Not you, I'm not.
ASG: Oh. Well, you wanna sign this then? (He pulls out a very crumpled piece of paper, then shoves it and the placemat toward Owner.) Here's my application, too.
Owner: *sigh* Fine. (He signs the crumpled paper.) But this is the last time, ASG.
ASG: Sweet. Thanks, man! (He takes the crumpled paper and stuffs it in his pocket.) I'll be back next week.
Owner then finished taking my order and, while counting my change, cursed under his breath and said to me, "Next time, I swear, I don't care how long he stands here begging, I'm not signing it! Here's your change. Order number 72."
I know what it was. ASG was just trying to prove to the unemployment office that he was actively applying for work so he could keep getting his checks. I'd chalk that up to "lamest application ever" if I had any inclination whatsoever that ASG was even remotely serious about getting the job. I wonder how long it will take for the unemployment office to see just how many times he's tried to apply with the same business.
So I went to a burger place for lunch the other day. Having just finished with a job interview, I was on my way to work, and I was really hungry. I stopped at a local place. It's not a big chain, so it is a little more expensive than some places. Fantastic gut-bomb burgers and fries, though.
Anyway, it was relatively slow. When I went in, there was one couple eating and one guy waiting for his order. I approached the counter and gave my order to the owner/manager. About halfway through it, he had to disappear to help take care of a minor crisis of a spill at the drive-thru window. While I'm waiting, Anxious Scruffy Guy comes in.
Anxious Scruffy Guy was interesting. Tattered jeans and a flannel shirt over a used-to-be-white T-shirt. Scraggly hair, graying beard that couldn't decide which direction it wanted to grow. And he just couldn't keep himself still! He was constantly running his hands across his scalp, jingling the change in his pocket, tapping his fingers on whatever surface happened to be nearby, tapping the toe of his boot on the floor, looking around with a facial expression somewhere between paranoia and impatience.
Anxious Scruffy Guy waited around for about a minute, twitching and fidgeting the whole time. Suddenly he gasped aloud as if he'd struck gold and lunged for a pen sitting on the order counter. His prize in hand, he grabbed one of those tray-liner placemat things, flipped it over to the blank side, and started scribbling.
I was standing right next to him, so I saw what he wrote. In huge handwriting, he had scrawled across the paper his name, a phone number that I knew belonged to the local university (recognized the prefix), the date, and the words "grill flipper."
When the owner of the burger shop finally came back, he didn't even try to hide the eye-roll he made upon seeing Anxious Scruffy Guy. Then they spoke.
ASG: Hey, man! You still hirin'?
Owner: Not you, I'm not.
ASG: Oh. Well, you wanna sign this then? (He pulls out a very crumpled piece of paper, then shoves it and the placemat toward Owner.) Here's my application, too.
Owner: *sigh* Fine. (He signs the crumpled paper.) But this is the last time, ASG.
ASG: Sweet. Thanks, man! (He takes the crumpled paper and stuffs it in his pocket.) I'll be back next week.
Owner then finished taking my order and, while counting my change, cursed under his breath and said to me, "Next time, I swear, I don't care how long he stands here begging, I'm not signing it! Here's your change. Order number 72."
I know what it was. ASG was just trying to prove to the unemployment office that he was actively applying for work so he could keep getting his checks. I'd chalk that up to "lamest application ever" if I had any inclination whatsoever that ASG was even remotely serious about getting the job. I wonder how long it will take for the unemployment office to see just how many times he's tried to apply with the same business.
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