Read my sorry tale:
Yeah, I'm weak or something. Fuck going back to that kitchen. I am lazy and privileged enough that I take shit like not working more than 38 hours a week for granted. Not that I've ever really had a steady job before, but I do have my comfort zone and I like it.
So on the Monday before Melbourne cup I swapped my next shift with another guy, came home and left my mobile phone off for a week. I dunno if I pissed them off and I don't care. I gave them more than they deserved and I don't need money so bad that I'm willing to send myself stupid to get it.
So on Wednesday me and Cat go into the city and after going to book shops, comic shops and computer game shops we get to a Starbucks and I actually got up and asked at the counter if they had any work going. They said yes, but I had to go home and apply online.
I can make coffee. I love coffee. I could work in Starbucks.
So at home on Wednesday night I write up an application to be a barista, modify my resume in a coupla places mentioning how I've got coffee making experience. That's no lie. There were lies on the thing, but coffee is something I know.
I got a reply straight away. Within minutes. I actually got an email from the training manager faster than I got a reply from thier automatic verification system. We had a very short conversation passing emails between us and I ended up with an interview on Monday afternoon at the Starbucks in the Galleria, on Bourke Street.
So on that Friday I had another interview, this time at my job network provider. My case manager was really smart, really helpful, although I did keep accidently looking at her boobs and I know she noticed. I really couldn't help it.
With her advice I was able to breeze through the Monday interview like nothing. I said all the right things, talked about how I admire Starbucks for thier recognition of social responsibility, how I'm a careful person who hates being forced to cut corners, and how I treat customers the way I'd like to be treated.
Then the fuckup came. On Wednesday morning I get a call on my now-turned-on mobile saying that they couldn't contact two of my references and that the one they could get was useless. So yeah, fuck. The call woke me up and I was panicking and the guy told me he'd call me back in fifteen minutes after I sorted everything out. I got one of the numbers right, I'd written down the fucking fax number. So I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting around stressed. I couldn't sleep last night thinking I'd blown it. I really want this job.
So he calls up this morning asking for the real numbers. I tell a lie, give him the number for Cat's work and he calls up Cat who gives me a glowing endorsement. I know because I was talking to Cat online at the time. Fucking nice. I'm in. If I'm not in there's something really fucken wrong.
There's two days paid training coming up followed by between fifteen and thirty five hour weeks. I don't care how much the pay is, as long as its more than the dole, as long as I can afford to live.