The older boy has been looking for a job for the last month or so, more vigorously since he returned from his Boy Scout high adventure. School starts in ten days, you see, and we would all love it if he could get a part-time job nailed down before then.
Last month I told a Tale of Two Workers, parts one and two, about the vast differences in working philosophies–or maybe I should say “desires”–between my two boys. In part two, I mentioned how I have, for a long time, been trying–with ALL my might–to plant the seed in my older son’s head about getting a job at a restaurant as a server, because I see (working in a salon and all) how much money someone can make from tips. That seems to be a great sort of job to help pay for college expenses. Well, of course, he wasn’t biting.
I found out last week that he *might* be one of “those guys”. You probably know a few yourself. They have to come up with an idea ON THEIR OWN.
Last Sunday we went out to eat, to celebrate their return from being away for fifteen days, and he noticed how much I wrote in for our server’s tip. Well, that must’ve started his wheels a’turning.
On the way home–you guessed it, right?–he said, “You know, I bet I could make some good money if I worked there.”
And so, the entire face of his job search changed. After finding out that the brand new deli/sandwich shop we were hoping he’d work for hired all of their help while he was away, he filled out, literally, about twenty applications over the past week for local eateries, ranging from fast food to dine-in.
Today he had his first in-person interview. He was told to arrive between two and four, avoiding their lunch and dinner rushes. About fifteen minutes after he left the house, I got the cutest picture text from him. It contained this photo:
Did I mention how DANG CUTE I thought that was?
So of course I replied, “Awesome! Enjoy it! Good luck!”
About 45 minutes later, he came home and exclaimed, “I’M A HOST! I’M A HOST!!!!!” And then he high-fived me so hard that my hand is still burning, even after applying aloe vera and a cool compress.
He told me that he will make minimum wage for 90 days and then he may get a raise; also, he made it clear to the manager that he’d like to eventually train as a server and she was cool with that news.
So on Thursday, my son officially joins the ranks of working Americans, hosting at a national chain restaurant about six minutes from home. I’m so excited for him!