Earlier today, for no reason at all, I remembered a really stupid thing I did when I was in my late teens. I couldn’t shake it for hours, literally.
I was working as a waitress at Casey’s and most of the time I freaking LOVED that job. My previous job was in retail at Northern Getaway down the mall. It was the only retail job I ever had. I liked it well enough, and did well working there. Hell, I was nicknamed “The Fleece Queen” by one of the managers. I could fold those sweatshirts like nobody’s business. But I knew the real money and, let’s face it, social opportunity, was in waitressing.
I was only eighteen when I applied to work in the restaurant, and the first time through the application process I didn’t get hired. I was convinced this was because I couldn’t answer the final, ridiculous, humiliating question in the interview:
“If you could be any fruit or vegetable, what would you be, and why?”
I swear the manager just asked this so he could listen to young girls talk about bananas and zucchinis. I stammered something non-banana and non-zucchini and was basically laughed away from the job. A few months later I tried again and I had an answer to the fruit or vegetable question all prepared. Sure enough, I was asked The Humiliation Test Question.
“I’d be an apple or orange because they’re well-rounded individuals.” ZING!
I was hired.
I’d worked there awhile and was cultivating the Rachel Greene haircut. A cute, older, tall guy who frequented the place with his colleagues asked me out, and I accepted. His name was Andy. He was really nice, and pretty cute, too. We went to the Keg for dinner. I wore too much makeup. At the end of our date we ended up back at the restaurant where I worked for a drink, and then I went out with some of the girls for some more drinks somewhere else. I have a vague recollection of leaving with friends instead of WITH MY DATE. What the hell was I thinking? That was so fucking rude I can’t believe it was me who did that. I don’t remember even really saying good bye to him properly, or thanking him for dinner, but I must have. Me, the girl who won all those subject awards at grade eight graduation, the grade ten yearbook editor, art camp counselor…surely these things left enough of an impression on me that I thanked the dude for taking me out.
I was an even bigger asshole later on, though, because he persisted to call a few more times and I just couldn’t bring myself to the phone, didn’t want to talk to the guy, had my mom take message after message, and then Andy stopped coming into Casey’s.
That was a little piece of shitty karma I pumped out into the dating world, but what the hell did I know? I was only nineteen. I’d have so many more years of bad dating drama to live through. Ten, to be exact.
I’m sorry, Andy. I hope you found a nice girl who at least let you take her home at the end of your first date.
Yer’ a dick huh?
I was that week, yeah.