Is this Amara Williams?” “Yes.” This is Janet from Corner Cafe. I’m calling about your application for the server position. Amara sat up straighter. Yes, thank you for calling. I’ve reviewed your resume, and you’re clearly overqualified for this role.
You have a business degree, and you've worked at some pretty nice establishments. “I’m very interested in the position.” I’m sure you are. There was a pause. Look, I’ll be honest with you. When someone with your background applies for a job like this, it raises questions.
Are you going to leave the second something better comes along? Are you going to cause problems because you think you’re too good for the work? “I wouldn’t.” And there's another thing. Janet’s voice became carefully neutral. We’re a small community restaurant, family-oriented.
Our customers have certain expectations. I’m not sure you’d be comfortable here. Amara’s grip tightened on the phone. “What kind of expectations?” “You understand what I mean.” ““No.” Please explain.” Another pause. I think we'll pass on your application.
Best of luck in your search. The line went dead. Amara set the phone down and pressed her palms against her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. She’d already cried enough this month.
She kept applying. three days later, she got a call back from a place called Benny’s Diner. The manager, a man named Lou, told her to come in for an interview that afternoon. Benny’s was in a rough part of town. The sign out front was missing two letters.
Inside, the booths had rips in the vinyl, and the floor was sticky. The smell of old grease hung in the air. Lou was a heavy man with gray stubble and tired eyes. He looked at her resume for maybe 10 seconds. “When can you start?” “I...
You’re offering me the job?” “You can work nights?” “Yes.” Weekends? “Yes.” $$7.50 an hour plus tips. Tips aren't great. Most people who come here don’t tip well. He shrugged.
“But it’s work.” $$7.50 an hour. She made $12 at the Meridian. “I’ll take it.” “Good. Start tomorrow, 5:00 p.m. Wear black pants and a white shirt.