Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Um, actually, I’m here about the ad I saw for the wait staff position. But I’ll still take this menu. I’ve always wanted to try this place,” I tell her.
She gives me a onceover then smiles softly. “Hang on one second, and I’ll go get Stephanie for ya. She’s the manager on duty, and I think she’s the one who placed the ad this morning, so you’re in luck.”
“Thank you so much,” I reply, and I open the menu to peek at what the restaurant has to offer. I’m practically drooling by the time I’m startled out of my perusal by another woman’s voice, this one a few years younger than me. And I realize the waitress I spoke to before her was much older than my twenty-nine years, which makes me feel way better about this situation than those other restaurants did.
“Hi there. I’m Stephanie. How can I help you?” the woman asks, and I smile and stick out my hand for her to shake.
“Hi, Stephanie, I’m Cecilia. Well, Cece. I don’t know why I said Cecilia. Nobody ever calls me by my full name unless it’s my mom and I’m in trouble. And now I’m rambling because I’m super freaking nervous. And I probably shouldn’t say freaking when I’m here to beg for— to apply for a job,” I word-vomit, and I look to the heavens, asking God to open up the floor beneath me to swallow me whole. I blow out a breath and an anxious laugh. “Let me try that again. Hi, Stephanie. I’m Cece. I saw your ad on Facebook, and I’d like to apply for the open position. Here is my resume.” I set the menu aside for now and open up my folder, handing her one of the printed papers inside.
When I look up at her again, I can see she’s fighting back a smile, a good-natured glint of humor in her eyes, but she’s kind enough not to laugh at me.
“It’s nice to meet you, Cece. Let’s take a look here.” It doesn’t take her long, seeing how there’s not much on there after my contact information. Just my time at a fast-food restaurant over ten years ago, and then my mom skills. When she looks back up at me, she looks a little uncomfortable. “There’s no mention of previous experience in waitressing. Normally, we like there to be at least some food service knowledge when we—”
“Oh, but there is.” My heart starts to pound. After so many nos today, and seeing as this is my last stop on the list, I can’t just sit here politely and listen to her shoot me down. “Aside from my job in high school—which, by the way, I was employee of the month for three months in a row—I have almost ten years of experience with cooking, serving, and cleaning up after children, which is much harder than just serving food to adults. Chaos. Pure chaos. Twins and a Ruby. And if you knew anything about Ruby, you’d hire me in a second for being able to keep her contained and happy, because Lord knows she is a difficult customer.”
She smiles at that. “Okay.” She glances at the resume again, pulling her lips to one side to nibble the inside of her cheek.
I should leave it at that, but I can’t. I can’t let her talk herself out of giving me a chance. And it all comes out in a rush. “I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for almost a decade. It’s all I’ve ever done, keep my little humans alive and happy. It’s all I ever wanted to do, to be honest. But I don’t have that choice now. It was taken away from me when my husband che—” I clear my throat. “—when my husband and I separated, and now I have to somehow find a job with no past work history, and no prior experience with anything other than being the best homemaker and mom I could possibly be. I have three little girls to take care of and provide for. Not only that, I need to show them that I can do that. I need to show them that even when something like this happens, you can pick yourself back up and all is not lost. I need to show those little girls that we as women don’t need a man to take care of us; we can take care of our damn selves. So, please. Just give me a shot. I’m a ridiculously fast learner, and I know I can do this. You just have to take a little chance on me, and I promise I can do whatever it is you need me to do.”
Her head tilts to the side, and if I’m not mistaken, her rapid blinking is to get rid of tears that welled in her eyes moments ago. I cross my fingers in my lap and give her a pleading smile, forcing myself not to break out my phone to show her pictures of my babies.