Confessional poetry
I probably got a job once, one of my favorites, because I was too honest.
The interview was a bit awkward. The interviewer, a prominent physiologist, scanned over the application and said: "Most of this isn't interesting. But what about the My-Oh-My Club?" This was in 1984.
I stared, colored, doubted, and was silent for a moment. "It wasn't very respectable" was all that I could first choke out. But the man looked at me inquiringly, and I submitted. Here's one of those quotations that aren't exact, but which try to carry the meaning (see Thucydides). Important note: The interview was in Virginia, not in Texas, if that matters.
"Well, after Taco Bell rejected me that summer [1972], I was desperate. The My-Oh-My Club was the only place that would hire me. It was Austin's first place with totally nude dancing, though I worked as a waitress and thankfully, for all concerned, kept my clothes on. Between sets, the place showed porn flicks, some of them with pigs and horses."
As waitresses, by the way, we made no salary, only tips. But we made better money, most of the time, than the salaried dancers. For legal reasons back then, the club banned the placement of folding currency in a certain orifice, and in totally nude dancing, you can't just shove a bill into underwear.
I got the respectable job, which involved ferrying around scholarly manuscripts to reviewers. Later, I learned that the interviewer had known exactly what that dear, departed club was because another physiologist in the department hailed from Austin. And everyone, it seems, had been waiting for my arrival at the interview. I'm sure that the poor people were seriously disappointed by the sight of me.
Much later, the first physiologist asked me why I'd bothered to mention the My-Oh-My Club on my application. All I could say in answer was that the application form insisted on a full employment history.
"You should have lied," the good man told me, if not in so many words. Maybe I should have. But, hey, I did get that job! Honor won the day.
The interview was a bit awkward. The interviewer, a prominent physiologist, scanned over the application and said: "Most of this isn't interesting. But what about the My-Oh-My Club?" This was in 1984.
I stared, colored, doubted, and was silent for a moment. "It wasn't very respectable" was all that I could first choke out. But the man looked at me inquiringly, and I submitted. Here's one of those quotations that aren't exact, but which try to carry the meaning (see Thucydides). Important note: The interview was in Virginia, not in Texas, if that matters.
"Well, after Taco Bell rejected me that summer [1972], I was desperate. The My-Oh-My Club was the only place that would hire me. It was Austin's first place with totally nude dancing, though I worked as a waitress and thankfully, for all concerned, kept my clothes on. Between sets, the place showed porn flicks, some of them with pigs and horses."
As waitresses, by the way, we made no salary, only tips. But we made better money, most of the time, than the salaried dancers. For legal reasons back then, the club banned the placement of folding currency in a certain orifice, and in totally nude dancing, you can't just shove a bill into underwear.
I got the respectable job, which involved ferrying around scholarly manuscripts to reviewers. Later, I learned that the interviewer had known exactly what that dear, departed club was because another physiologist in the department hailed from Austin. And everyone, it seems, had been waiting for my arrival at the interview. I'm sure that the poor people were seriously disappointed by the sight of me.
Much later, the first physiologist asked me why I'd bothered to mention the My-Oh-My Club on my application. All I could say in answer was that the application form insisted on a full employment history.
"You should have lied," the good man told me, if not in so many words. Maybe I should have. But, hey, I did get that job! Honor won the day.
posted by aparker54 at 1:42 PM
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