REM

How Awkward

As I pulled into the parking spot to the left of the handicapped one, I wondered what I was even doing at a Chinese restaurant. I had worked in a restaurant before as a busser and I never had any ambition to become a server, or make it last any longer than the four years I was there. But these were now desperate times for me and I needed something to do anyway, so why not go for as many interviews as possible and gain some experience?

I shut the car off and got out, then ran my hands down my suit jacket. It was a bit much considering where I was applying to, but I felt like dressing to impress, even if I wasn't serious about the position.

Inside the restaurant I found an empty lobby. There was a reception desk to my right and a few curtained doors to my left. People were seated in the rooms and looked to be eating, so I walked toward the stairs, not noticing the low hanging sign, which literally touched the step I used to walk over it.

At the top of the stairs I found more dining areas. An asian man looked at me from where he sat as an asian woman briskly walked by me and downstairs. She must have thought I was with the dinner party, or perhaps was too preoccupied with remembering a drink order. I waited for a couple of minutes, then decided to head back downstairs to find her.

She was behind the reception desk when I set foot on the ground level again. I walked over to her as she looked up from a computer screen.

"Hi, how can I help you?" she asked, an accent present.

"I'm here for a job interview," I replied.

Glancing around the area I finally noticed the sign on the stairs saying the upper section of the restaurant was reserved for a large business party.

"Oh, interview. Right over here." She pointed with her open hand and walked over to the room directly across from her desk.

I followed, finding myself looking upon long tables as numerous people sat around them.

"Thank you," I smiled.

She nodded in reply, then left me to find an empty seat.

"Hey," greeted a young man with dark hair. "We just finished filling out our applications. Did you get one?"

"No," shaking my head, "I didn't."

"Hold on." He walked over to a table and returned with one that had already been filled out. "Use this crappy one. We don't have any blank ones left."

Looking the piece of paper over, it looked as though a five year old had written their name and other details on it.

"Do I just cross this stuff out and write my own information?" I asked as the man walked away.

He turned back and replied, "Sure. Do what you want. We're easy-going around here."

I can see that, I thought to myself.

Flipping the paper over, I found a pen and book to recreate the application form on the blank back side. Once it was filled out, I found myself wandering around the room to leave. I walked out a side exit, only to find myself in what looked to be an apartment kitchen.

"Hey man," asked a random man, who also had dark hair. "Would you mind helping us fix the projector brackets. None of us are tall enough."

"Sure..." I wanted to make myself look good, but I was still hesitant since I wanted to escape this joke of an application process. Where the heck was the interview they called me in for?

I followed him over to a ladder that was setup, then climbed it with a screw driver in hand. Looking down at the people in the room, they all watched as if it was some sort of dangerous test and they wanted to see if I would fail, or fall.

Twisting the bolts, I tightened the apparatus.

"Could someone hold the ladder?" I asked, looking for a volunteer.

"Yeah," offered a young man, holding up his hand. He walked over and then held the ladder as I reached across and wedged my elbow into the bracket to gain leverage for another bolt.

Once I was finished, I stepped down and then headed for the exit once more.

"Thanks again," smiled the man who had originally wanted me to help.

"Yeah," I waved. "No problem."

Again I was stopped by someone in the apartment kitchen. The guy had some weird looking creature stuck to his foot, which really freaked me out considering this was supposed to be a sanitary restaurant.

"I think I've seen one of those before," I commented, trying to remember what it was called. "I'm pretty sure it's poisonous, or can cause a lot of problems if you don't remove it right away."

I watched as the black blob that resembled a shortened eel wiggled on the man's foot. What looked to be the creature's face stared up at me and the other people present in the room.

"You should really get that removed," I recommended, taking a step away.

I saw the man stand on one leg as he inspected it and began pulling on it with his bare hands. If I correctly remembered what those things did when threatened, spikes would soon be piercing into his skin.

"Ah!" he screamed as I turned away and left the room.

Figures, I thought to myself.

As I walked out of the restaurant and back to my car, I realized what a joke the place was. Perhaps it was all some sort of test, or joke that I didn't understand. Either way, I wasn't going to have an easy time convincing someone of what transpired without video evidence. I guess it was destined to be one of those stories I would tell when everyone was drunk at a party.