The Pepper on the Pizza

Hello Friends,

Interview.
Interview.
I.N.T.E.R.V.I.E.W…
Full of promise. Full of hope. An interview is the first step on the road to success, the first step in the life that you’ve worked so hard for, the first step to the beginning of your career…

I had an interview at a different school. Theatre classes, no more teaching English. An actual salary, no more hourly wages. HEALTH BENEFITS! No, I’m not privy to that luxury now.

I drove, three hours to the school, in morning rush hour traffic. I walked into the building, I was greeted by two security guards. They asked me what I was doing there. I told them I was there for an interview. They told me I must have misunderstood, because there were no faculty members in the building.

EXCUSE ME?!?

No. Principals. No. Administrators. No. Faculty.

I was STOOD UP AT AN INTERVIEW.

Up until then, I didn’t think that happened in real life.

That was one year ago.

This past Monday, this school called me again, wanting to know if I could come in for an interview. Against my better judgment, I agreed to go in…

AGAIN. Again I drove, for three hours, in rush hour traffic. Again, I left my home at five forty-five am, and arrived at the school at eight forty-five am, the exact moment I had the interview. Now, when I got to this city school, there was absolutely no parking, except for the spots that were designated for the NYCDOE. So I asked the lovely NYPD school safety staff if I could park in the empty spots, since I had an INTERVIEW.

They said no, that I was screwed.

Gee, thanks.

Now, at this point, the school knew about all these road blocks that I was coming across. I had called, multiple times. They told me, don’t worry, not a problem, you get here when you get here.

Finding a parking spot took fifteen minutes.

Getting through security took another fifteen. It made airport security look like a walk in the park. The security guards moved at a glacial pace, making sure I wasn’t hiding a gun or a knife in my Ann Taylor shift and my Cole Haan pumps. Real threatening.

I finally got upstairs.

I was going to do my demo lesson. A teacher audition if you will.

They made me wait.

And wait.

And wait.

We’ll be right with you, they said.

I waited.

“We just have to find an administrator to observe you, ok?”

“Ok.”

I waited.
And waited.

“We just have to find a class for you to actually teach, ok?”
“Ok.”

I waited.
I waited.

I overheard students talking about how they had theater next period. Naturally I figured that these would be the students that I would teach.

I continued to wait.

Then, the AP came up to me and said, “I’m sorry, but we can’t see you today, there isn’t a class for you to teach.”

Really buddy? Cause I just heard students talking about how they had theatre next period, and I asked the secretary about the schedule. Next time you decide to lie to my face, and toy with the emotions, feelings, and hope of the people who actually want to teach at your decrepit school, PICK A DIFFERENT LIE.

Naturally, I did not say that to his face, I’m not an idiot. I smiled, shook his hand, and left the building.

And then I cried for the third time that day, on the sidewalk.

It’s so frustrating being treated like pond scum, and that’s how this school treats its perspective candidates, like the maggots that feed off of feces. That’s how little they think of their staff.

The crying, the stress, the disappointment, and the fact that I had been up since 5 am had left me rather hungry.

I walked to a lovely pizzeria. I ordered a whole-wheat margarita slice to go. I walked to the condiment counter, took the slice out of the bag, and grabbed the container with the crushed red pepper.

One shake….

BOOM. Someone had apparently forgotten to tighten the cap on the red pepper. My pizza slice was completely covered. Not. Edible.

I started to clean it up, I started to cry, I started to become completely unhinged….

But, the manager bless his soul, saw me in my pathetic state. He cleaned up the mess, and actually gave me another slice of pizza, on the house.

After the day I had, it’s nice to know that there are actually kind human beings out there. To the staff of Caesars Palace Pizza, located on Amsterdam Ave in NYC, thank you for making my day a little bit brighter.

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4 thoughts on “The Pepper on the Pizza

  1. Thank goodness for the kindness and humanity of the person in the pizzeria, because no one should be put through what you went through for an interview. That was unconscionable. May you some day find the teaching job of your dreams — but not there.

  2. You wouldn’t want to work in a school where the AP treats a prospective staff member like that. Really…you wouldn’t.

    Your passion for students and learning always shines through. I truly hope you find a great position soon. You deserve it! And the students who will be in your classes will be lucky, indeed.

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