I got my biggest bite on a job in quite some time when I stopped by California Pizza Kitchen today.

I went in because I was out at Old Orchard (suburbia-hellish mall in Skokie) begging people for jobs and one of my friends from high school worked there for a couple of summers, and he really seemed to enjoy it, in addition to making a shitload of money. So I figured I might as well apply.

The manager I talked to was really nice, and I’ve got an appointment to go talk to the other manager tomorrow, and it actually sounded, for once, like they actually wanted me to work there.

I don’t want to put the cart before the horse like I did with the Braves job, because the other manager could end up hating me or turn out to be some sort of lunatic, but I feel good that at least someone wants to employ me.

I’m still not sure I’m cut out to be a waitress, but hey, I can put a big fake smile on as well as or better than anyone else. And my pseudo-Southern accent seems to be more of a help than a hindrance.

It’s not thick enough to make me sound stupid (Jeff Foxworthy: “Most people hear this accent and automatically want to deduct 100 I.Q. points.”), but it’s there enough to make me sound like a nice polite southern belle.

Well, if you don’t hear me getting pissed and spitting out more profanities than George Carlin‘s Seven Words You Can Never Say On Televison routine. That tends to take a touch of the charm out of it…

So we’ll see. I should have a better idea after tomorrow of what sort of employment I’ll have. And maybe then I’ll stop bitching about not having a job and start bitching about customers!

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