raucous workplace > creepy workplace

Jane got me a job waiting tables at the place where she finally snagged a bar-tending job, that goth-themed indie bar/restaurant where I met Ford, Poe’s. I feel pretty torn about it, since “waitress” was the job title I was looking to shed by spending four freaking years in college. Should have second-guessed that Art History major with a concentration in Female Professors and Amusing Yet Poor Decisions. Still, the owner of Poe’s is a really decent woman, and it beats the pancake place in WVA where I pretty much had to serve drunken frat boys pancakes on my breasts to get tips enough to pay for rent, groceries, and books. Poe’s is a late-night joint with lots of vegetarian options and hipster kids. Jane says they have decent live music. Everywhere has decent live music here–a perk of Nashville.

Needless to say, the interview with the insurance company was a total clusterfuck. When I got there first thing in the morning, the entire staff was in a soundproof board room that I could see through a glass wall. Their heads were all bowed and their hands were clenched. When they started filing out of the room a few minutes later, I noticed that the women were all wearing these hideous ankle-length khaki skirts. Gary, my interviewer and would-be boss, nervously licked his lips as he lead me into his office. He wanted to know how much experience I had in administrative assistance, and I told him none, and he said “None? No experience?” I said, well, I can take a phone message with the best of them. You read my CV online in order to call me in for an interview. He looked down at my wraparound dress and black heels (conservative outfit, I thought), and said, looking over his glasses, “I don’t know where you’ve worked before. But there will be a dress code in this office. Most of our clients are good Christian families.” Wait for it, wait for it. Then I ask him if he will be my boss, and he goes, “Well, I would be your earthly supervisor. Here, we all have the same boss…in Christ.” I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, and managed to hold it together until I had just barely stepped out of the office. So waitressing it is. I’d rather deal with some overtly sexual comments and spilt beer than administrative assist at Jesus Creepery, Inc. Remember, he’s watching you, especially when you lead Gary into temptation. Ewww.

My first night on is tonight. And Friday is my big, um, art lesson rendez-vous with The Downstairs Neighbor. And I’m lost on what to wear and what to talk about to such a worldly, beautiful woman.

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