Could it be that some people actually enjoy that shakey feeling that seems to occur below the skin of your hands when passing folded CV's or letter's of employment across counters at local restaurants and bars. Is it not that very feeling held by the little orphan Oliver asking, "Please, sir, can I have some more?"
Light-headed and heedy, I stumbled from the St Moritz this afternoon after handing over my CV to the friendly but thin-as-a-stick receptionist-style waitress whose tight waistcoat and white shirt smacked of middle-class attempted style. "Yes, we are a good restaurant, come eat with us...we wear waistcoats." I'd seen it all before at other places of employ, that desperation to make what is eccensially a dingy hole in the wall cafe into a place of distinction.
Some places do this by applying ties to shirts, some by dusting off their penguin suits, others by dropping off...well, everything, and wearing just tassles. Certainly the St Moritz bought into the former, rather than the later...I wondered if I'd fit in, and if they'd ever call the number printed so clearly at the head of the CV below the words, "Matt B Regard".
Why is it so frightening buying into a new job? Is it an illogical fear of the unknown...That no one will like us, that we'll never fit in, that we'll drop plates and ruin the restaurant's very reputation. Or is it actually a fear much closer to home, that fear of rejection...Not a fear that they WILL call and that the problems will start from there, but rather a fear that they WON'T call...and that you'll prove to yourself once again that you are simply not good enough.
I suppose I shall have to wait and see. Maybe they'll call, maybe they won't...Maybe I'll be liked, maybe I'll be hated. Another day, another hour, another minute...I'll only know if they call.
- Mat B Regard
Light-headed and heedy, I stumbled from the St Moritz this afternoon after handing over my CV to the friendly but thin-as-a-stick receptionist-style waitress whose tight waistcoat and white shirt smacked of middle-class attempted style. "Yes, we are a good restaurant, come eat with us...we wear waistcoats." I'd seen it all before at other places of employ, that desperation to make what is eccensially a dingy hole in the wall cafe into a place of distinction.
Some places do this by applying ties to shirts, some by dusting off their penguin suits, others by dropping off...well, everything, and wearing just tassles. Certainly the St Moritz bought into the former, rather than the later...I wondered if I'd fit in, and if they'd ever call the number printed so clearly at the head of the CV below the words, "Matt B Regard".
Why is it so frightening buying into a new job? Is it an illogical fear of the unknown...That no one will like us, that we'll never fit in, that we'll drop plates and ruin the restaurant's very reputation. Or is it actually a fear much closer to home, that fear of rejection...Not a fear that they WILL call and that the problems will start from there, but rather a fear that they WON'T call...and that you'll prove to yourself once again that you are simply not good enough.
I suppose I shall have to wait and see. Maybe they'll call, maybe they won't...Maybe I'll be liked, maybe I'll be hated. Another day, another hour, another minute...I'll only know if they call.
- Mat B Regard
posted by Drappa at 6:50 AM
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