an enthusiastic caller responding to my resume. "we have something for which you'd be just perfect. let's meet asap." little black skirt, heels, etc. the mortgage purse. (i keep thinking i'm actually glad i bought this stuff *then* since i never could *now*.)
we cast and bob. i smile, i'm charming, i'm engaged.
lots of questions about my former celebrity chefs. i answer diplomatically about how tough they were, yet "gee, what a rewarding challenge," blah blah.
this last expedition was especially unsavory. a growing group with several new places in the works and clearly successful within a pretty narrow concept. could do it in my sleep kinda thing. there's a voice in my head, nagging though, because i've met 2 of the 3 partners over the years and know they're dicks. (add in unbearable princesses for wives.) but i have visions of eventually being the buyer for all the stores. perfect.
initial guy seems very nice. passionate about food and service. has been with them 2 years. we twirl around and around and i hear the same questions. it's common knowledge my previous employers are notorious assholes. why make me lie? at last we come to money. i say a number. we dance around some more. an hour ago i knew i'm overqualified for what they actually need, and the bait he dangled before doesn't exist.
"any other questions before i get the director of operations?" (the behind the scenes partner i've never met.) "am i in the ballpark with salary or not?" hems, haws, "uh, mr. x will discuss that with you." i was ready to leave then.
mr. x arrives promptly and... i instantly hate him. he tries to disparage my previous restaurants and wine lists. tacky. then admits to never having been to 2 of them when i corner him politely. rude. he jogs me for industry gossip. ruder still. i finally say, "look, can we talk about what you have to offer me?" he offers $20,000 LESS than i lobbed. high school drop-outs who start as entry level managers at fucking mcdonald's make more. i stare at him, and say that's not possible for me. "well, what if we pay 1/2 your insurance?" i nearly fall off the chair when i realize the miserly crumbs didn't even include benefits. all the while he has barely made eye-contact. he knows this is absurd, and is basically offensive. "to be honest, i'm looking to move forward, mr. x, and that would be a giant backward step, so if that's the best you can do..." "wait, wait, let me think if i know of anything else..." he's staring at my resume like a leprechaun with a pot of gold might leap out of it.
he tosses out, "well, so-and-so--" i cut him off, already knowing where that project is headed. "mr. x, i thank you for your time, but --" he tries yet again to make me stay and asks me more gossip. finally i stand up. it's done. if i stay i'll either start laughing or punch him. "thanks for your time, good luck, mr. x, blah, blah."
these aren't the first guys to do this. in such a relatively small town, with such a tightly incestuous industry, why are they calling me just to meet me? to see if i'll talk smack about guys everyone knows are jerks? to give them free advice, rather than paying a consultant? isn't it counterintuitive to look at my experience and offer me the equivalent of burger-flipping? oy vey. it's an industry that survives on very thin margins, however i am not being unreasonable in my expectations. i'm not leasing myself into serfdom.
finally i'm no longer naieve enough to take the bait and wind up with a mouthful of mud. i can wait.
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