Reading: The Ghost Stories of Edith Wharton.

Watching: Sports Night. How fun to see William H. Macy playing a foil to his real life wife Felicity Huffman.

Job Seeker

11:15 a.m. I am sitting at an upstairs table in the food court at Wegmans, with a cup of green tea and my Zaurus in front of me. Precious time alone, a little respite in my day before I do our food shopping. The twins are downstairs happily playing in the kids room. At least, I hope they are happy. Matthew, who has been going through a separation anxiety phase ever since he was born, clung to my leg as I signed the boys in to the playroom.

"I'm going to miss you, Mama," he whimpered piteously.

"I won't be long, honey." I reassured him. "Remember all the fun things you can do here? The maze and the computer and the toy kitchen? You're going to have a lot of fun!"

"No, I won't. I'm going to miss Sheena!"

Sheena is Matthew's stuffed sheep, one of the menagerie of animals that inhabit his bed. He always carries around one of his stuffed animals everywhere he goes.

"Sheena is in the car. You can see her when we leave."

As soon as the child care worker opened the door and let the boys in, however, Matthew forgot his fear, dashed in after Stephen, and immediately started taking off his shoes. I watched him through the window as he ran through the maze, giggling and seemingly unconcerned at my absence. Then I headed for the coffee bar.

I love this store. The food court has so many delicious options: brick oven pizza, hoagies, chicken wings, soups and salads, sushi, and a Chinese buffet. I considered getting lunch here today, but it is a little early, so I settled for a cup of tea.

There aren't many other people here on the upper level right now: a few couples, a few solitary folks like me. Several tables away, a job interview just took place. I could only see the back of the interviewer, but I had a partial view of the job candidate: a heavy-set, older, rather tough-looking woman. I found myself eavesdropping on their conversation despite myself.

"You've written on your application that you are interested in a position as a cashier," the interviewer said. "I should tell you that right now we don't have any openings for cashiers, but we do have other positions available. Would that be a problem?"

"Well, I really was looking to be a cashier. What other jobs do you have?"

"We need food court workers to bus the tables, clean up spills, things like that. We also need food service workers."

"Ummm...you mean like in the deli?"

"No, at the food counters, serving the customers."

"Oh. So do you think there will be a cashier job opening soon?"

"Maybe. We expect to get a lot busier at Christmas. Now, I'm going to ask you a few hypothetical questions." The interviewer paused, perhaps considering whether she needed to define the word hypothetical. "Tell me what you would do if you found yourself in one of these situations."

"OK."

"What if you were walking down a store aisle and you saw a customer examining a new product. If that customer looked like he or she wanted information about that product, what would you do?"

"Well, I would ask them if they wanted more information, and if they did I would give it to them. Or if I didn't know about it, I would find someone who could help them."

(Yeah, right, I thought.)

"Good," answered the recruiter. "Now, how about if you had a personal conflict with another employee? How would you handle that?"

"Ummm...I would tell a manager? No, no...first I would try to work it out with them...you know, talk to them? Then, if that didn't work, I would tell a manager." The wannabe-cashier leaned back in her chair, seemingly satisfied she'd given the right answer.

"Very good."

From there the conversation devolved to a discussion about how many hours the applicant wanted and whether she had reliable transportation. Soon the interviewer was shaking the applicant's hand and thanking her for her time.

The job seeker passed close to my table as she left. She had a heavy step and a tired face. She didn't look at all like the typical shiny, happy Wegmans employee; unless Wegmans is desperate for holiday help I wouldn't give much for her chances. All through the interview I had been smiling contemptuously at this woman's burning ambition to become a cashier, but now I felt ashamed of my cynical reaction.

What an abominable snob I can be, sometimes.

previous       index       e-mail me       next