but I definitely have some fatal flaw that I can't dissolve. And it's keeping me from eating at restaurants, from buying those leather pants I walk past everyday, even from paying my rent. It's keeping me from getting employed.

 

People say it's the market , people blame it on the weather. They blame it on how you dress when you drop off your résumé, they say it's got to do with the swinging economy and your use of to-be verbs. The excuses are florid and abundant, and can typically alleviate — for a few hours — the guilt of being a louse. But the dissatisfaction from short-term fixes and the discomfort from unpaid DSL bills had eventually driven me to the streets. I needed answers.

 

I've seen people, walking around in the day with us unemployeds. They wear their little suits and charge lunch on their business credit cards. I've seen them smiling their salaried smiles, overflowing with health benefits and just so happy feeling valid. Examples:

 

Congressional representative: Judy Biggert .

President of our country: George Bush.

Host of the television series “The Today Show”: Katie Couric.

 

All of these high-profile jobs obviously exist, and are clearly taken. And I'm not bitter that my work ethic has not landed me one of these positions. But surely there are thousands of jobs that are less evident. I'd been idly dangling like a spider over the hell of job search engines for too long. It was time to push myself into some obscure vacancy with whatever force I could muster.

 

Victor.

 

My first stop was SushiSamba . Located in the Loop , it's a classy restaurant with a well-chiseled staff – both in the good-looking and well-chosen senses. The wide rooms are splashed with color, from orange light box tables to flickering reflections off pools of water. In order to accommodate their menu selection, featuring Japanese and Latin American cuisines, the restaurant has two kitchens. Since patrons can order a combination of plates, it is probable that their requests will come from both locations. It is the duty of the food expeditor to organize the preparation and delivery of all dishes served in the restaurant.

I have no restaurant experience. I cannot balance trays, I've been told I should be embarrassed by my customer service capabilities, and I can't boast agility with sharp kitchen utensils. But I remember well squatting in the bushes playing G.I. Joe with my brother; I am an expert with a walkie-talkie.

I settled into a couch near the bar to wait for Victor, the lead food expeditor at SushiSamba. He didn't bring his walkie-talkie to the interview, but he promised me that he uses one. His post is tucked in the center of the restaurant, at the end of the sushi bar. A small cove speckled with post-it notes, it blends into the hubbub of the restaurant. I admired the fact that his position keeps him out of reach of disgruntled customers, but he assured me that the servers and hosts do a superb job of instilling in them a good mood.

 

Maybe it's some extra rum in the mojitos, or maybe the patrons believe there are truly sharks swimming in the pools of water under their tables. Victor came to Chicago three years ago from Mexico , and said the restaurant is always purring in both languages. Japanese is usually spoken among the Sushi chefs. I asked Victor if he ever thinks they are speaking about him, and before I could even finish releasing the question he blurted out a most certain “yes.” But since he has experience as both a server and a line cook, he knows the demands of each side, and can slip easily into a spot between them. He confessed he can't really make a mistake. He assured me that he loves his job.

 

The problem with restaurants is the same problem with dating : people always want you to already have experience, but they don't want to be patient enough to give you a chance. While I like the idea of skirting away from needy customers and hiding behind a jungle of sticky yellow papers with a two-way radio, I don't think I could handle upsetting a person swathed in white, carrying a blade the size of my leg—and the knowledge of how to use it.

(go to page 2)

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