Move your mouse over here!
Previous page

Why Do You Want to Work Here?

I filled out my first job application when I was nine. Mom brought home two, in case I messed up the first one.

"Mr. Cappizotto grabbed me in the elevator today." She lit a Lucky Strike.

"Ole Onion Breath. You gonna tell Poppy?"

"Jake'll kill him and go to prison." She opened the refrigerator and stared at the scant contents. "Grab a can of tuna and the opener. Fill this out. For the dry cleaners."

The application reminded me of a giant blinking eye. Who are you? Are you good enough to work here? Name, phone number, address. "What job did you have before Levitt's Store?"

"Waitress. White's Diner." She opened the can, slopped tuna in a bowl.

I completed the application, using that Big Imagination everyone said I had. She got the job. A few weeks later Poppy got fired from the restaurant for punching a customer. He brought me a stack of applications and I filled them out, ignoring my homework, listening to the radio. My brother Nicky handed me his application for a cashier's job at Food Fair. I made them all sound like glowing job prospects. I learned the power of the written word.

Story by:

Sara Jacobelli

capitareafagiolo.wordpress.com

6 March 2018