Wow. It's bad out there.
I have never been out of a job. When my job was eliminated years ago, I had a job offer before I'd even had my exit interview. And they hunted me down, not vice versa.
When I left my bakery, I turned away work and could have my pick of the crop. My resume grew and became a really good one. Getting good salaries was also pretty easy. And after I closed the cafe I got a job in less than two months, of course it only lasted about two months. That's when I really got a taste of the famine.
The employers tell me that they literally get hundreds of resumes from a single ad. They are overwhelmed. They get the cream of the crop and can pay them measly wages because, in this economy, they can get away with it.
Since everything should be viewed as a learning experience, I'd like to share some of my adventures in job-hunting in the last year.
The Belgian Organic Bakery Chain-
They loved me. They loved me so much that they wouldn't hire me. I had replied to an ad and within minutes I received a reply, "I'll be in the Greenwich store tomorrow, can you meet with me then?" Oui, absolutement.
As a former boss, I know how to show up for an interview. Dress nice, neat, professional. Watch the cleavage or anything too tight. Floss teeth, check in mirror. No crazy jewelry or makeup. Bring a clean copy of resume and BE ON TIME. How many knuckleheads did I interview that didn't follow these simple guidelines.
This high-up on the food chain executive and I had a lovely meeting for an hour. We seemed to really hit it off. He wanted me to trail in a New York store and then interview with two other managers. So I did.
Then I went to the corporate office to fill out numerous forms and give permission for a credit check and criminal background check. Check. Check.
Nice e-mail from original manager, nice return e-mail from me. Then, nothing.
Okay, so I e-mail him again. Nothing. It's like having a really great first date where you think you hit it off and then he never calls you again. Hmm!
But, then he did call me, three weeks later. I was on my way into the city for another interview, which I'll describe next. He wanted me to meet with yet another manager in a new store in midtown. But of course I will.
I sit with this manager and have another very pleasant conversation. He then says to me, "I don't really get it, why do you want to work here? Why would you stock inventory and wait on customers? I'm concerned that you'd be the Ferrari in the garage."
I replied honestly that I understood that I had to pay my dues to work up in the company. I'm a hard worker and do my best no matter what. The fact that they could even transfer me from a CT store to a NY store was attractive too.
Never heard from them again and every day they still run the same ads in NY and CT.
The Personal Vegetable Cutter-
The interview I was on my way to when Frenchie had called me was for a "Personal Corporate Chef". Requirements were culinary degree, restaurant experience, French and Asian cuisine experience, and must be comfortable with high-maintenance celebrities (my specialty).
The address was way, way downtown. A shiny new office building right next to the hole in the ground known as "ground zero". Upon entering the lobby I was asked for numerous forms of ID, they don't kid around about security in that neighborhood. Finally, given clearance I found the appropriate elevator bank and went up.
Stepping off of the elevator I followed the light, where glass doors opened to the company reception area. The floors were a polished cement. It was devoid of anything warm, inviting or soft. At a small desk there was a young man in a high fashion black suit who pointed me toward two small black and chrome couches with a glass table between them. Beyond them was a completely glass wall that looked right into the hole.
Talk about bad feng shui!
Without even a ledge, straight down I could see the construction site, the cranes, the mounds of dirt. Because I was high up I knew that I was probably at eye level where on September 11, 2001 I would have had a birds eye view of desperate, flying people trying to escape the horror that was the end of their lives. Not feeling good about this place, not at all.
As I sat down, trying not to look at the window so I could keep my composure I saw that the office was completely partitioned by glass walls. There was no privacy for anyone. Where could one yank at their pantyhose privately, or sneak a couple of candy bars without looking like a pig? No where.
The HR woman took me back, I passed by the glass cubicles, where everyone had their faces in their Apple computers. No laughter, not even conversation, just clicking of keyboards and telephones ringing.
We sat in a small, glass conference room. I mean really, no privacy? A lip reader would have a field day working there. Here's what the job consisted of:
CEO had lost about 200 pounds and lived on an only raw-food diet. Chef was to provide fresh fruit breakfast and herbal tea in morning.
Cut up vegetables for lunch. Because this was a high-end design firm everything must be presented beautifully and artistically.
Afternoon snack of vegetables. Provide one for employees too, some healthy vegetables in the afternoon to give them some sustenance. (Again, where could you just sneak a Mounds bar?)
Provide healthy raw platters for client meetings.
Occasional dinners for evening meetings, consisting of...you guessed it, raw vegetables.
She showed me where I would work. The "kitchen" was what most businesses would call the "break room". Some counter space, a microwave (sheerly for the unhealthy types who ate their food hot), a Sub-Zero refrigerator and a sink. Oh, and I'd get a desk with an Apple computer on it, of course.
The pay was terrible, but they did offer benefits. We shook hands, we agreed to talk the next day. As I left I looked around again to try to feel the vibe. Miserable, skinny, well-dressed young people surrounded by glass. I said goodbye to the receptionist who nodded in reply. I turned my back away from the two holes, heading toward the elevator.
Let's see, commute from Connecticut to be there at 6am to cut up fruit for one person. Pretend to be busy for a few hours before cutting up his vegetables for lunch. Sit at my Mac and f**k around till cutting up afternoon vegetables and being on call till about 4pm until I was told I could leave because no night-time vegetable platter would be needed. Commute back home and make barely enough to pay for the trip.
Was I this desperate yet?
No, I was not.
The Belgian chain disappeared, I said no to the raw-food glass prison that looked out at the hole of horrors. I met with people at Dinex, Daniel Boulud's company, I interviewed at cafes, restaurants, bars. I just kept plugging away and draining my savings.
How did I finally get my job? I saw some young people standing outside of a building taking a smoke break wearing kitchen whites. I asked them if there was a cooking school there and they said yes. Did they need instructors and who should I call there?
One week later I had an interview. The week after that I did my demo where I had to de-bone a chicken, cook a breast and make a pan sauce, all while answering questions fired at me from various chef instructors.
The next week I was hired as a substitute teacher. Two months after that I got my own class, a month after that I got a second and became full time.
I never gave up, how could I? It's not like I had a choice. But I sure became humble. I drink the corporate Kool-Aid now. I had always wanted to try my hand at teaching and turns out, I'm good at it and enjoy it. I'm still in the kitchen but it's not restaurant hours and my colleagues are not spring chickens either. I'm not the old lady trying to keep up with the young Mexicans who can now run circles around her. And when I had to have an emergency operation I had benefits and sick-days.
I have my struggles and bad days. I'm not saying I'm living "happily ever after" but I'm living, I'm happy and it's true that things do happen for a reason.
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