INTERVIEW ME
It's no secret that I've been looking for employment over the past 2 months now. My writing isn't paying the bills nor are the sales of my photography merchandise. I need to learn how to market and promote them better. If you have suggestions let me know; I'm open to all kinds of ideas. I've had a few interviews, two of them were some of the worst experiences of my life and I've decided to blog the experience. I need to process what happened and how to avoid shit like this in the future.
INTERVIEW ONE: WASH ME, DANIEL
INTERVIEW ONE: WASH ME, DANIEL
I've worked in fast food before and have over a dozen years kitchen experience, so when I applied to be a dishwasher and back of houseboy, I thought that I'd be a shoe-in for the job. It was a bit below my skill set but it had promise for promotion within the kitchen. Great right? I put in my resume online, filled out their questionnaire assessment and a few days later got a phone call asking me to set up an interview. I jotted down the date and time, but before I hung up I asked the interviewing man if visible tattoos were acceptable in the workplace. The company didn't have it mentioned on its website, nor could I really find a lot of information on their hiring policy, so I figured it would be better to ask and get an answer before we wasted each other's time if visible tattoos were an issue. He told me that he wasn't and that he'd see me in two days time.
The day of the interview arrives. I'm dressed in my sleek black, grey and white jumper from AllSaints, pressed black trousers and all black Adidas trainers. I've got a copy of my resume and three letters of recommendation neatly clipped together. I've familiarised myself with what's expected of employees, what the job responsibilities are and what promotional availabilities would be available to steller employees. The job was 40 minutes from my house communicating on public transit, two bus transfers, but I figured that it wouldn't be too bad, it is a job and I need one badly.
I arrived with 10 minutes to spare and walked into the restaurant. There was a hostess there at the booth taking notes so I waited a few moments before she looked up and saw me. "Hi, I'm Dan. I have an interview here at 3.30. I'm interviewing for a back of house position." It was kind of warm so I had slightly pushed up the sleeves of my jumper, not wanting to overheat. She gave me a small smile and told me to have a seat while she went to get Peter. A large man made his way out of the kitchen and shook my hand. He led me to a table in the back and before I could even get word one out he says, "I don't think we'll be able to move forward with your employment. I was a little taken back. "It's your tattoos. You said you had some, but you didn't say you were covered." "I did say that my hands, neck and arms were tattooed." "We don't mind one or two, but you were covered and that's against our hiring policy. I don't agree with it, but that's how it is." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd just wasted time and money getting here and they weren't even going to really interview me! I thanked him for his time and went to wait for my ride to pick me up.
I felt like once again I was denied an opportunity because of who I am, but what happened next just made me feel even worse about myself. I was sat quite by the door in one of the waiting areas where people wait to be seated and two, skinny and pretty girls walked in with resumes in hand. The hostess didn't notice me there, nor did any of the servers, so I sat carefully listening. "Hold on, let me go get Amanda, she's the manager here." She's the manager? Then who the fuck did I speak to? They didn't even send the fucking manager to talk to me! The hostess went back and got the head of the kitchen to speak to me, not the manager! She saw what I looked like and judged me right from the fucking start and stole from me my actual interview chance. I was livid, but I knew I had to hold it in and just watch. The woman came out and spoke to one of the girls not far from me and well within earshot. She hired her right off the bat after about a 30-second glance at her resume and did the same with the second girl. They both left with employment packets under their arms while I was left to sit.
Then it dawned on me. They wanted pretty, attractive girls there. I didn't fit the bill. They didn't want unattractive, wrist scarred trans boys there. I sunk even lower into my seat. I had to sit there for an hour while my ride came to get me. The entire time I sat there not one waitress asked me if I was a guest, if I could be helped or if I was waiting for someone. All three of the women on staff their ignored me, walking by me as if I wasn't even there. I took my jumper off because I was getting too hot in it, despite the AC. As soon as I took the shirt off a waitress came over to me and told me that I had to please leave. I was wearing a vest top, exposing almost all of my arm and chest tattoos, as well as some of the other scars around some of the tattoos. Thankfully my ride arrived 5 minutes later, but the way I was treated there, treated like I was sub-human just made me feel worse about myself. Here I am struggling so hard, trying to not end up on the streets again, trying to be able to feed myself and they just shit all over me because I'm not pretty, because I'm tattooed, because I'm not one of them. A "normal" person. I felt like I was stupid, that I shouldn't have even put my name in there; that I should have somehow known better.
I pulled myself together and put in for dozens more jobs, hoping to secure another interview and then with luck, a job. A week later a woman called and set up an interview with me. It sounded promising. She said that it was casual, so I opted for a solid black t-shirt and black trousers and jumped on the bus only to be met with possibly a worse experience.
INTERVIEW TWO: QUICK STOP
I wasn't sure how to get there and with some areas doing road construction I didn't want to risk being late. I had the directions saved on my phone and boarded the bus with time to spare. I arrived about a half hour early. I walked into the office and informed the receptionist that I was here for an interview, apologised for being early and asked her to inform whoever was interviewing me that he or she could take their time, I knew I was early and I brought a book. I filled out the paperwork she handed me quickly and returned it to her.
I took a seat in the corner of the waiting area and submerged myself in the book. It wasn't even 10 minutes before a woman came out and called my name. I stook up and followed her into a small office around the corner. I apologised again for being a tad early to which she responded with "Whatever, let's get to this. I had a few questions about your resume, I didn't understand it." I squished the thought of 'this bitch is a fucking moron' and asked her how I could better explain it to her. "There's an Amazon there?" "I work from home. For tax purpose, I need to list Amazon as the employer, but I write the books; they sponsor them." "You write books about home care?" "No, that was the other job that I had; one was a live-in type job, I wrote on my off hours, which is why I listed them as two separate jobs. I also started writing before I took on the personal care aid position."
"Right." Her tone is accusatory and believes me to be lying. It's starting to really piss me off, but I hold my temper in. "What is a personal care assistant?" Okay, this cunt really is stupid. "I provided at home assistance with feeding, housework, bathing, dressing and coordinated medical appointments, lab work and medication administration for both my grandparents in coordination with each of their physician teams." She gives me a blank stare. "Right." Again, that fucking sneering tone. "Do you have any other questions?" "Tell me about when you were a fry cook." I explained what the type of situation was, my duties and responsibilities. Before I could even finish the sentence that I was on, she interrupts me.
"Is English your first language?" I'm taken back by the question. "Yes. I also speak several others fluently in addition to my native English, why?" "I'm having trouble understanding you." That's when I lose my fucking temper. "Maybe, if you learned to speak fucking English we wouldn't have a problem here. No one has any difficulty understanding me." "Well, maybe it's your tongue bars." "Again, no one in any language has any complaints, maybe you just need to get fucking laid." How fucking dare this uneducated little cunt assume that I was lying and untalented because I was applying for a job that doesn't require my degree. If I could use it, I would have, but due to certain issues, I can't work in that field right now. I demonstrate my language ability by insulting her in several of the languages on my way out.
Once again a slap in the face. I don't know how or why I'm always getting shit on. I really don't want to have to put up with this shit. I'm at my breaking point with the way I've been treated lately. The sneers, the additudes and the blanent disrespect. I know I'm going to run into some of it in the work force, but I seem to be overrun by cocksuckers. Not to mention all of the non-call backs I've received. I'm slipping deeper into depression, everything's just getting shittier and I have no idea what I can do to make it better. I've written so many cover letters that my fingers hurt.
I do have one bright spot, but that will be another blog.
I'm waiting on a call back from one place; I spoke to them a week ago so I'm hopeful since the interview went well. They seemed interested in having me for another position as well and told me that would be in contact soon. I honestly don't think I'm going to get a callback. It's been a week.
The day of the interview arrives. I'm dressed in my sleek black, grey and white jumper from AllSaints, pressed black trousers and all black Adidas trainers. I've got a copy of my resume and three letters of recommendation neatly clipped together. I've familiarised myself with what's expected of employees, what the job responsibilities are and what promotional availabilities would be available to steller employees. The job was 40 minutes from my house communicating on public transit, two bus transfers, but I figured that it wouldn't be too bad, it is a job and I need one badly.
I arrived with 10 minutes to spare and walked into the restaurant. There was a hostess there at the booth taking notes so I waited a few moments before she looked up and saw me. "Hi, I'm Dan. I have an interview here at 3.30. I'm interviewing for a back of house position." It was kind of warm so I had slightly pushed up the sleeves of my jumper, not wanting to overheat. She gave me a small smile and told me to have a seat while she went to get Peter. A large man made his way out of the kitchen and shook my hand. He led me to a table in the back and before I could even get word one out he says, "I don't think we'll be able to move forward with your employment. I was a little taken back. "It's your tattoos. You said you had some, but you didn't say you were covered." "I did say that my hands, neck and arms were tattooed." "We don't mind one or two, but you were covered and that's against our hiring policy. I don't agree with it, but that's how it is." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd just wasted time and money getting here and they weren't even going to really interview me! I thanked him for his time and went to wait for my ride to pick me up.
I felt like once again I was denied an opportunity because of who I am, but what happened next just made me feel even worse about myself. I was sat quite by the door in one of the waiting areas where people wait to be seated and two, skinny and pretty girls walked in with resumes in hand. The hostess didn't notice me there, nor did any of the servers, so I sat carefully listening. "Hold on, let me go get Amanda, she's the manager here." She's the manager? Then who the fuck did I speak to? They didn't even send the fucking manager to talk to me! The hostess went back and got the head of the kitchen to speak to me, not the manager! She saw what I looked like and judged me right from the fucking start and stole from me my actual interview chance. I was livid, but I knew I had to hold it in and just watch. The woman came out and spoke to one of the girls not far from me and well within earshot. She hired her right off the bat after about a 30-second glance at her resume and did the same with the second girl. They both left with employment packets under their arms while I was left to sit.
Then it dawned on me. They wanted pretty, attractive girls there. I didn't fit the bill. They didn't want unattractive, wrist scarred trans boys there. I sunk even lower into my seat. I had to sit there for an hour while my ride came to get me. The entire time I sat there not one waitress asked me if I was a guest, if I could be helped or if I was waiting for someone. All three of the women on staff their ignored me, walking by me as if I wasn't even there. I took my jumper off because I was getting too hot in it, despite the AC. As soon as I took the shirt off a waitress came over to me and told me that I had to please leave. I was wearing a vest top, exposing almost all of my arm and chest tattoos, as well as some of the other scars around some of the tattoos. Thankfully my ride arrived 5 minutes later, but the way I was treated there, treated like I was sub-human just made me feel worse about myself. Here I am struggling so hard, trying to not end up on the streets again, trying to be able to feed myself and they just shit all over me because I'm not pretty, because I'm tattooed, because I'm not one of them. A "normal" person. I felt like I was stupid, that I shouldn't have even put my name in there; that I should have somehow known better.
I pulled myself together and put in for dozens more jobs, hoping to secure another interview and then with luck, a job. A week later a woman called and set up an interview with me. It sounded promising. She said that it was casual, so I opted for a solid black t-shirt and black trousers and jumped on the bus only to be met with possibly a worse experience.
INTERVIEW TWO: QUICK STOP
I wasn't sure how to get there and with some areas doing road construction I didn't want to risk being late. I had the directions saved on my phone and boarded the bus with time to spare. I arrived about a half hour early. I walked into the office and informed the receptionist that I was here for an interview, apologised for being early and asked her to inform whoever was interviewing me that he or she could take their time, I knew I was early and I brought a book. I filled out the paperwork she handed me quickly and returned it to her.
I took a seat in the corner of the waiting area and submerged myself in the book. It wasn't even 10 minutes before a woman came out and called my name. I stook up and followed her into a small office around the corner. I apologised again for being a tad early to which she responded with "Whatever, let's get to this. I had a few questions about your resume, I didn't understand it." I squished the thought of 'this bitch is a fucking moron' and asked her how I could better explain it to her. "There's an Amazon there?" "I work from home. For tax purpose, I need to list Amazon as the employer, but I write the books; they sponsor them." "You write books about home care?" "No, that was the other job that I had; one was a live-in type job, I wrote on my off hours, which is why I listed them as two separate jobs. I also started writing before I took on the personal care aid position."
"Right." Her tone is accusatory and believes me to be lying. It's starting to really piss me off, but I hold my temper in. "What is a personal care assistant?" Okay, this cunt really is stupid. "I provided at home assistance with feeding, housework, bathing, dressing and coordinated medical appointments, lab work and medication administration for both my grandparents in coordination with each of their physician teams." She gives me a blank stare. "Right." Again, that fucking sneering tone. "Do you have any other questions?" "Tell me about when you were a fry cook." I explained what the type of situation was, my duties and responsibilities. Before I could even finish the sentence that I was on, she interrupts me.
"Is English your first language?" I'm taken back by the question. "Yes. I also speak several others fluently in addition to my native English, why?" "I'm having trouble understanding you." That's when I lose my fucking temper. "Maybe, if you learned to speak fucking English we wouldn't have a problem here. No one has any difficulty understanding me." "Well, maybe it's your tongue bars." "Again, no one in any language has any complaints, maybe you just need to get fucking laid." How fucking dare this uneducated little cunt assume that I was lying and untalented because I was applying for a job that doesn't require my degree. If I could use it, I would have, but due to certain issues, I can't work in that field right now. I demonstrate my language ability by insulting her in several of the languages on my way out.
Once again a slap in the face. I don't know how or why I'm always getting shit on. I really don't want to have to put up with this shit. I'm at my breaking point with the way I've been treated lately. The sneers, the additudes and the blanent disrespect. I know I'm going to run into some of it in the work force, but I seem to be overrun by cocksuckers. Not to mention all of the non-call backs I've received. I'm slipping deeper into depression, everything's just getting shittier and I have no idea what I can do to make it better. I've written so many cover letters that my fingers hurt.
I do have one bright spot, but that will be another blog.
I'm waiting on a call back from one place; I spoke to them a week ago so I'm hopeful since the interview went well. They seemed interested in having me for another position as well and told me that would be in contact soon. I honestly don't think I'm going to get a callback. It's been a week.
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