Classist

I'm not great at segues.

I had a job interview the other day...Well, it wasn't exactly an interview because in order for something to constitute an interview, questions must be asked, and it didn't exactly come to that. We sat down, he told me I needed a Masters degree (don't have one)for the job I was applying for, but that I could try for the minimum wage 10-hour a week job they were rockin'. So...yeah. Didn't go over well. But that's not actually the point of this post as I would have been content with that short-not-sweet sitdown. The point was the feeling of NotBelong I felt looking across the desk at the man in the suit. For some reason I couldn't focus much on what he was saying. I kept thinking about girls who wear Bumpits in their hair.

Several years ago, my sister got me a job waiting tables at a semi-fine dining restaurant. First time waitressing, which isn't that easy when you're new at it. The young women who worked there were TERRIFYING. They all seemed like giant, beautiful Amazons, who knew every single thing in the world about Baked Walleye and Chicken Cacciatore, and my first year of college had taught me jack about those things. They were not patient. Nor were they necessarily mean. But they were curt and did not like to have to tolerate inadequacies. They were the types of girls that you know had gotten into REAL fights, with black eyes and everything. I had to learn to carry with them . And not be slow about it.

My first night, they had me buss tables, and as I was terrified to touch their tip money, I left it on the tables. After about an hour, the tallest one with the coldest blue eyes grabbed my arm and said, "Don't leave my tips on the table. I want those right away." "Okay," I stammered, and told myself to do better. I did do better, and after a week or two of waitressing I caught on and was accepted.

But those people were different. They knew I was going to college (they weren't) and thought I was some kind of scholar. They thought my feminism and literature references meant that I was smart, sure, but also amusing in a pet sort of way. They thought feminism was ridiculous (though they'd put up with a lot less than a lot of college girls I'd met would in terms of men), but the fact that I endorsed it meant something so they didn't shit-talk it. They REALLY thought I was somebody. Like I could go on to become their Consigliore--not really part of their law-breaking, but someone that was smart enough (and who also happened to be on their side enough) to bail them out someday. "You're like...classy."

But. I was a big fish in a small academic pond there. You could say that. Except that it wasn't about my brains. They just liked me. And they gave me something that was severely lacking in that interview. Respect.

Back to the now. He showed up to the interview a half hour late. He seemed confused about my presence, despite the fact that I'd made the appointment with him 2weeks in advance. "I forgot," he said. I didn't press him on this, but he did have 2 weeks to write the appointment down, though I suspect he didn't because he knew beforehand that I only had a Bachelors degree and so thus didn't want to waste his time on me. I, myself, had been practicing for a week and half on faux interview questions, was so nervous I was shaking, and was a respectable 10 minutes early to the interview. After we sat down he said he wouldn't ask me anything because he had much better applicants with more education, which is fair, but it still left me cold. I thanked him for his time and mailed a Thank You card, despite the fact that he didn't give me a reason to thank him.

It made me wonder what the girls with the Bumpits and the trays in their arms were doing.