The Interview Process

So yesterday I went in for an interview at a pizza place on North Avenue, across from Judge's Pub. (Very near where I used to live) As I approached the place and got a good view of it, I was a bit worried. The windows had that writing on it that you often see in stores going out of business. They were advertising their different specials.

I went inside anyways and when the bartender asked what she could do for me, I told her I had an appointment with Jeanie. She pointed to a woman holding a baby, at a table strewn with papers. I introduced myself and she asked me to go into the kitchen so that I could make some food.

There were three guys in the kitchen. One was probably about my age and looked a little dumb. He seemed nice enough but there didn't seem to be that spark of intelligence. The next guy was a little guy with full sleeve tattoos on each arm. He was nice enough, but he had scabbed over scrapes on his face that are generally consistent with fighting. Although he may have fallen on his face, who knows. The last guy was an older gentleman named Sal. He had a very thick Italian accent and seemed like a very nice guy. I made a pizza, Sal pointed out the mistakes (minor) that I had made. Then he showed me how to make a stromboli.

Apparently the woman was the kitchen manager and Sal was the head cook. It was easy to tell that there was a lot of tension there. Sal obviously bristled at doing things the way he was told rather than how he wanted to do them. He said something to me about doing something the way the bosses wanted it done rather than how he knew it should be done. I told him I knew how it was, that I had dealt with similar situations.

I made the pizza, some alfredo and a shrimp scampi. They seemed to like it all. Of course, I burnt my mouth on the pizza. I really want to work, but it seemed like a place filled with tension. They told me they would call me last night and tell me their decision. I got an e-mail this morning telling me that the kitchen manager still had to meet with the owners before she could make a decision.

I seem to remember a saying about too many cooks and what happens to the broth..