I got an interview! Not a job though.

Today I had an interview at a café in Staten Island. Not my first choice for a job, but I need money and waitressing seems like the quickest way to do that.

Ashley, a friend, had promised me that I could use her printer to print out my resumé. The owner, Boris, said to bring a "few" in the e-mail. I assumed that meant three?

So I got to her house early to discuss my clothing and get the resumés printed. Everything seemed okay until we noticed that her printer was out of ink. That sucks. We then try her parents computer, but they do not have Microsoft Word on their PC. So I try a number of things, saving the file as a bunch of things, opening it a bunch of ways, even downloading Microsoft Office viewer. And just to make this a little more annoying, the computer is old and slow.

About an hour later, the only thing that worked out was the incredibly slow download of the Microsoft viewer. Which would be fine. However! When I opened my resumé, it was just one line too long, so it was on a second page. And because it's a viewer, I can't edit it! 

So I print out two. Throw away the second page, even though now on my resume it says I commit activities but there is a huge blank spot underneath it. Karma for being so lazy?

Then Ashley figures out a way to print out the entirety, which is great, but on this particular one, it has no name, address or phone number.

So I have three?

I'm late so I have to go. I race there in my car. The interview is at 8:30 and it's 8:25. I'm right in front. I turn onto the street, sink into a huge pothole and continue on my way on the ONE-WAY STREET. Going the wrong way, of course.

So I could do two things. Turn around or continue down the block a bit to get to the café's parking lot. I pick the latter on account of the time.

I park. I get out. I flick my gum over a fence nearby. I'm ready to go. It's 8:29. I GOT THIS.

I enter the establishment and wait for Boris, the tall man, all in black,who is interviewing a very cute girl for the same job. When he is done with her, he shows her to the door with his hand on the small of her back, they giggle as they passes me.

 "So, I'll call you this week."

He notices me there and goes for the resumé. I think he's going to shake my hand. But he's going for the other hand with the resumés. My hand is awkwardly left in the air as he walks away with my weird three resumés. I guess I should follow him?

I do. I sit next to him at the interviewing table, right by a gigantic window with a view of the street outside. I introduce myself. He asks me about my experience. I lie, a lot. I've never worked in food service before so I lied on my resumé and said I worked at a cafe at school that closed down. How hard could it have been? 

"Do you know how to make a cappuccino?" he asked.

"Yup," I said.

"Do you know how to mix a drink?" he asked.

"Not professionally, but everybody knows how to mix themselves a drink, right?" I say.

No reaction. This interview was about four minutes long so far.

"Any questions?" he asks.

Now, I don't have questions, but I want to talk more. It seems like the interview is over and I didn't even get to say anything or show any of my great, job-worthy personality.

"I don't have any questions, but I have...thoughts?"

"What thoughts?" he asks.

Then I proceeded to tell him that I like that they have live music because I'm an artist and that means he supports the arts. I thank him. Then I tell him I love gelato and I'm glad they have gelato there. He doesn't seem to relate/take interest in/give a shit about anything I am saying. I then decide to tell him that I like their modern décor. I have no idea why. The tables and chairs are connected to the floor, and the customers cannot reach the table in some cases. I tell him I like that too and the crusty orange color of the walls.

I don't know why. But when you start something like this, you can't stop.

He thanks me and I get up to leave.

"Oh, just one more thing!" he says.

I turn.

"You have a car right? I saw you pull in."

"Oh yes. I do. That was me. I pulled in," I answered.

A short amount of quiet time goes by. He's looking at me. He either saw me drive into the one-way, not turn around even though I was on a one-way, or flick my gum, or probably all three! Should I laugh? Is this what this is?

"Okay...bye." I said. And I haul ass out the door.