Exupery waits tables on Sundays in a little Chinese cafe because she's in the same position I am. She is always amused and a little pained when asked if she is working her way through college only to explain that she has already graduated with her degree in Aeronautical Engineering from Stanford, thank you very much. I know other coworkers have been considering things like this.
Curiosity finally catches me and I asked one of the girls working behind the stand about the little red sign.
"Paul!" she shouts, not bothering to turn her head, "We have one for the help wanted!"
Paul looks to be in his early fourties, or at least old enough to thoroughly misjudge my age. He smiles at me like I was a child and my brain immediately clicks into the conclusion that he had one. It was probably one of the other girls working the fruit stand. I smile, this act was never too difficult. Paul fits the description perfectly of somebody who I could manipulate pretty easily.
Paul looks at me like I am a child with a big grin on his face, "Can you be outgoing? Aggressive... but friendly?"
"Yes." I say. It isn't until after I said it that I realize I was probably suppose to say something more to prove I was a good salesman.
"This is a hard job," he returns, "some people really aren't cut out for it you know."
"Yes." I say. It isn't until after I said it that I realize I was probably suppose to say something more to prove I was a good salesman.
"This is a hard job," he returns, "some people really aren't cut out for it you know."
I'm not entirely sure what to say. I want to tell him I'm a professional, that I graduated fairly well decorated, and that this job will supplement a fairly respectable job in a federal agency, but he didn't ask that. If I told him these things I would sound pompous, and I know the only reason I want to tell him is because I'm a little ashamed to be in this position. A very ignorant and selfish part of my mind tells me that I did everything right, and that I somehow deserve something better than this, that work like this is for somebody else.
"You think you can do it?"
"Yes sir."
He hands me a bucket of grapes and a pair of plastic salad tongs, "I'll give you five minutes and see how you do." He nods to one of the girls at the stand, "She will teach you. She is one of our best."
I look at the grinning 20 year old. If she even goes to college I bet she majors in some unemployable bullshit like women's studies. I'm taken aback a moment by the ignorance and irony of my own mental statement.
"Alright," she says to me very sweetly, "All you have to do is smile at the people and give them free samples. Just say nice things and keep their attention, like 'fresh seedless grapes, super sweet!' and 'once you try you have to buy!' and whatever else you can think of."
This is so cheesy.
She assists me in handing out a few of the grapes and then goes her own bucket of Pluots to hand out. I stand there, salad tongs in hand, still wearing the backpack I brought to the market, asking each passersby if he or she would like a grape.
There is a small bubble of people around my teacher, all enjoying the Pluots and talking to her. Pluots (apricot plum hybrids) are larger than grapes and take longer to eat, but there is still a skill in getting people to stand and talk as they finish their food. I should be able to do this at least as well as she can, my mind tells me. The girl looks wholly unruffled and uncompetitive. It suddenly occurs to me that she might have begun handing out fruit as well not to provide a benchmark for Paul to grade me against, but to provide camaraderie in a new situation which Paul thinks might be frightening for me. It occurs to me that by most measures of being human she is probably a better person than I am. I viewed her as a competitor, somebody to be beaten and she viewed me as somebody to be kind to, to be taught.
The next ring of people clears and she smiles at me to offer some cheerful help, "Always keep talking." I smile back at her and tried a little louder, "Fresh seedless grapes!"
People don't go to the farmer's market to be in a hurry. They don't drag crying children or complain about the service, instead they smile at me and thank me for the grapes. I was standing in the sunlight on a beautiful day doing easy work which leaves me plenty of time for my own thoughts. I will not have to wear a suit, there are no meetings, no deadlines, and no overtime. The pay will be abysmal and I know it, but it isn't like I'm quitting my real job. Really, this is not so bad at all.
"And one for you!" I say, holding the tongs above a small child in a stroller. "Open your hands!" He did and I drop the grape into them. While he pops it into his mouth I hand one to his mother.
"Mmm!" he says, waving his hands in the air with delight. His mother, evidently pleased with her son's interest in fresh fruit, reverses the direction of the stroller in favor of the cash register.
This is a pretty good life.
I hand out every grape and bring the empty bucket back to Paul. He smiles at me. "Did you like it?" I nod. He hands me a slip of paper. "Write down your name, a phone number, and that you handed out Pluots."
"I handed out grapes."
"Write Pluots anyway so I remember."
I do as he asked. I find it amusing that he didn't ask for my card. I realize how set in my ways I am, at only 22, seeing only one way to behave, one way to be taken seriously. When I was first introduced to the business world I abhorred it. I claim I still do and tell myself that I would never buy into it, never be a part of it, but here I am as prejudiced as any of them. I am so glad I did not go into defense work. We believe we are strong enough to resist our environment, but in reality we are weak and impressionable things. I never wanted to be that asshole who hides behind her degrees and honors as an excuse to be a miserable and condescending person, but I can see now that that is who I am becoming.
I waved goodbye to Paul and thanked him for the hefty bag of fruit he has given me. No other employer has ever paid me in any form for my interview time. I have one interviewer who has been interviewing me since April and 13 interviews later can not even be bothered to tell me when a final decision will be made. I went to an interview once where they sat 12 of us in a room and announced they would only be hiring one of us in an attempt to pit us against one another. The oddest part was Py was one of the 12. Paul handed me easily 10 dollars of fruit for under half an hour's work, which is more than what he normally pays I am sure.
As I walked down the row my teacher extends an arm with her own salad tong and a juicy Pluot on the end.
"Fresh Pluot?" she asks with a smile.
"Don't mind if I do," I laugh, taking the fruit from her. I realize I feel terrible for not knowing her name.
I won't tell them about my other job unless they ask. I decided, walking away. I will stay and learn from these people. The work is good, and I could stand to be like them. They are better people than I.
"You think you can do it?"
"Yes sir."
He hands me a bucket of grapes and a pair of plastic salad tongs, "I'll give you five minutes and see how you do." He nods to one of the girls at the stand, "She will teach you. She is one of our best."
I look at the grinning 20 year old. If she even goes to college I bet she majors in some unemployable bullshit like women's studies. I'm taken aback a moment by the ignorance and irony of my own mental statement.
"Alright," she says to me very sweetly, "All you have to do is smile at the people and give them free samples. Just say nice things and keep their attention, like 'fresh seedless grapes, super sweet!' and 'once you try you have to buy!' and whatever else you can think of."
This is so cheesy.
She assists me in handing out a few of the grapes and then goes her own bucket of Pluots to hand out. I stand there, salad tongs in hand, still wearing the backpack I brought to the market, asking each passersby if he or she would like a grape.
There is a small bubble of people around my teacher, all enjoying the Pluots and talking to her. Pluots (apricot plum hybrids) are larger than grapes and take longer to eat, but there is still a skill in getting people to stand and talk as they finish their food. I should be able to do this at least as well as she can, my mind tells me. The girl looks wholly unruffled and uncompetitive. It suddenly occurs to me that she might have begun handing out fruit as well not to provide a benchmark for Paul to grade me against, but to provide camaraderie in a new situation which Paul thinks might be frightening for me. It occurs to me that by most measures of being human she is probably a better person than I am. I viewed her as a competitor, somebody to be beaten and she viewed me as somebody to be kind to, to be taught.
The next ring of people clears and she smiles at me to offer some cheerful help, "Always keep talking." I smile back at her and tried a little louder, "Fresh seedless grapes!"
People don't go to the farmer's market to be in a hurry. They don't drag crying children or complain about the service, instead they smile at me and thank me for the grapes. I was standing in the sunlight on a beautiful day doing easy work which leaves me plenty of time for my own thoughts. I will not have to wear a suit, there are no meetings, no deadlines, and no overtime. The pay will be abysmal and I know it, but it isn't like I'm quitting my real job. Really, this is not so bad at all.
"And one for you!" I say, holding the tongs above a small child in a stroller. "Open your hands!" He did and I drop the grape into them. While he pops it into his mouth I hand one to his mother.
"Mmm!" he says, waving his hands in the air with delight. His mother, evidently pleased with her son's interest in fresh fruit, reverses the direction of the stroller in favor of the cash register.
This is a pretty good life.
I hand out every grape and bring the empty bucket back to Paul. He smiles at me. "Did you like it?" I nod. He hands me a slip of paper. "Write down your name, a phone number, and that you handed out Pluots."
"I handed out grapes."
"Write Pluots anyway so I remember."
I do as he asked. I find it amusing that he didn't ask for my card. I realize how set in my ways I am, at only 22, seeing only one way to behave, one way to be taken seriously. When I was first introduced to the business world I abhorred it. I claim I still do and tell myself that I would never buy into it, never be a part of it, but here I am as prejudiced as any of them. I am so glad I did not go into defense work. We believe we are strong enough to resist our environment, but in reality we are weak and impressionable things. I never wanted to be that asshole who hides behind her degrees and honors as an excuse to be a miserable and condescending person, but I can see now that that is who I am becoming.
I waved goodbye to Paul and thanked him for the hefty bag of fruit he has given me. No other employer has ever paid me in any form for my interview time. I have one interviewer who has been interviewing me since April and 13 interviews later can not even be bothered to tell me when a final decision will be made. I went to an interview once where they sat 12 of us in a room and announced they would only be hiring one of us in an attempt to pit us against one another. The oddest part was Py was one of the 12. Paul handed me easily 10 dollars of fruit for under half an hour's work, which is more than what he normally pays I am sure.
As I walked down the row my teacher extends an arm with her own salad tong and a juicy Pluot on the end.
"Fresh Pluot?" she asks with a smile.
"Don't mind if I do," I laugh, taking the fruit from her. I realize I feel terrible for not knowing her name.
I won't tell them about my other job unless they ask. I decided, walking away. I will stay and learn from these people. The work is good, and I could stand to be like them. They are better people than I.
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