I had an interview with McDonalds this morning, which was- not as bad as I feared. I hesitate to ever call a job interview “good,” but this one went smoothly, and I wasn’t scared until I cam out again. There were a few tense moments; when they asked me why I left Tim Horton’s, and who I could give as references at Tim’s. I didn’t exactly leave there in a happy frame of mind, let’s just say. It was my first experience in a defined hierarchy-type job, when I wasn’t on my own initiative, and I had a bunch of co-workers who liked to “teach” the sheltered home-schooler about “the facts of life.” So, it wasn’t my favourite job ever.
But it seems that my references were good, because I got a call this afternoon, saying I could have the job if I wanted it. And thankfully, they still have the blue uniforms, not the brown monstrosities that have just debuted in the UK. *shudders*
This is rather ironic, really, given the reminisces Third World and I engaged in at College. After talks about the worst shift ever, and picky customers, and faulty equipment, and coworkers who can only be described as disturbing, I said, “We’re going to end up working Fast Food again this summer, I know it.” And as it turns out, Third World has a bunch of leads on other work, (she’s in a city, so the options are slightly broader), but I’m looking clear to be manning drive-thru again. 😀 I love irony. It makes life so much richer.
I think this job could be fun. In a rather geekish way, I like the cash registers, and equipment, and being able to ring in a ridiculously detailed order as fast as someone could speak it. There is a nice bit of triumph to repeating back an order and totalling it correctly, while not at your cash. And McDonalds does more things than Tim’s, so the learning curve should take a bit longer. Also the people there seem to be nice. ALSO; I’m getting $8.50 an hour, 32 hrs a week, which works to $272 a week, before taxes. not bad, not bad at all. At that rate, I might actually get the debt paid off before I turn thirty! 😀
Having my smaller siblings wash dishes is pure torture. For everyone involved. *beats head against wall* General tears and hysteria. And screaming. But nothing has broken, yet.
*puts head on desk and cries*
And oh look, Sam just took a fire poker to my bread dough.