The Interview
by Barbara Lynn Terry

Nothing in this world ever comes easy. I had just graduated from high school, and I had no offers for jobs, even though I applied at several places, including restaurants, for anything from cook to waitress. I even said I would bus tables, if necessary.

But my answering machine, in my room at my mother’s house, was empty of messages. I sat down at my computer, and started surfing the internet, looking for … I have no idea. I just sat there going through site after site, and reading a little here and there.

Then a thought occurred to me. I’m eighteen years old, and I had graduated the week before, from high school. I was able to go out without having to worry about being truant. I went in the kitchen, mainly to see if my mom was home. She wasn’t. My mother had long since stopped snooping through my things in my room, so I kept my female clothes in my closet.

I went in my closet, and got out my lavender sheath dress, my lilac, see through blouse, lilac under things, a pair of regular nylons, a garter belt, and my lavender shoes with the two inch heels. I went in the bathroom, and shaved myself clear of any visible hair. I’d wax later this week, when mom is out of town. I then ran my bath water, putting in some lavender bubble bath, with oil.

I sat in the tub, just soaking, and letting the foam do its relaxing work. When the water started to cool, I washed myself, and then rinsed off with the shower head. I patted myself dry with an absorbent terry towel, and then I lotioned and powdered myself down. I went in my bedroom, and started to get dressed.

I put my lilac under things on first, and then sat down at my computer table, where I had a lighted makeup mirror. I sat there, applying my eye makeup first, because I didn’t want to mess up my face powder. I put on lilac eyeliner, lilac eyeshadow, black mascara, and then started on my face. I put on some medium light foundation, and medium light face powder. I made sure everything looked like the girls at school. Then I put on my lilac lipstick. I looked heavenly. Then I put on my blouse, and stepped into the dress, and zipped up the back. After I had my clothes on, I put my hair up, and twisted it around for a bit, then clipped to the top back of my head.

I am five foot, five and a half, and I have very lithe body movements, making me walk like a girl, even when I am not dressed like one. My face is oval like a girl’s, and I actually have a figure, and hips that actually stick out. “If you were a girl, those would be child bearing hips,” my aunt Melissa had said last Christmas. After making sure that I was dressed properly, and everything was straight, I decided to try applying for work as a girl. Woman if you will, because I’m eighteen. I opened my middle dresser drawer, and took out my purse, that I had hidden there. When my mother did my laundry, she no longer put it away for me, but just left it on the bed. Making sure I was not recognizable as a male, I left the house.

I then went out to apply for work. I started at the diner on fifth street, about a mile from where I lived. The manager was a nice lady in her forties, and she had wonderful light auburn hair. Her teeth were pearly white, making her smile beautiful. She didn’t have her girlish figure any more, but she wasn’t fat either.

I asked for an application for waitress from the cashier, and I sat down and started to fill it out. A waitress came over and asked me if I wanted anything, and I ordered a piece of jelly toast, and a cup of tea. I sat there filling out the application, and nibbling on my toast. I kind of looked out of the corner of my eye, and saw I was being watched. My thoughts were, that I hoped I had passed as the female I worked so hard to create. Or did I create her, or was she there to begin with? Oh sure, I had dressed in women’s clothes from time to time, but only for a short time, and never went out. But then again, maybe she was there to begin with.

When I made out the application, I had put female for gender, and waitress for position applied for. The manager, whose name was Vickie, came over and looked at my application, and then looked me over very carefully. She said there was an opening, but only for the right person. We talked some, mostly about nothing, and mostly girl talk. Then the talk got serious.

“So Jodie, why do you want to wait tables?”

“I just graduated from high school last week, and I’m living with my mother. I want to be able to show my mother that I am not a lazy girl, and that I can work. I wanted to get work on my own, so she could see I am really trying. Some of my friends at school, told me that their mothers were waitresses, and they do very well from just their tips. Even though I am not holding out that I will make a million dollars in a week, I would like to try waiting tables.”

“I see. Well young lady, everything looks filled out right, and you certainly have the attitude. If I hire you, I will put you with one of the other waitresses, and they will show you how to treat the public, and how to serve the guests. But first I need to know a little more about you. What kind of work does your mother do?

“She is a licensed cosmetologist over at Gimbels, on the second floor. The Gimbels on twelfth street”

“Oh? I go there a lot, every time I need a perm. I’ll be sure to watch for her. Now, when would you be able to start, young lady?”

“Immediately.”

“Good. You’re hired. You can start tomorrow morning. Let’s go upstairs and get your uniform.”

I followed her upstairs, and there was a big room with different lockers. Sort of like the gym at school. She unlocked a wooden door cabinet, and opened the door. Inside she fumbled with the clothes, and finally handed me a blouse, a skirt, and an apron. The shoes were to be black, with a one inch heel. The blouse was black, with ruffles, the skirt was red, and the apron was white. She handed me a waitress rule book for this restaurant. She said I was to obey it, because was the bible of employee conduct and dress.

On the way home, I thought about my interview. I applied as a woman, and the manager was very interested in my life. After two hours of talking, she hired me. Now I was a waitress, and I started in the morning. I wonder what mom would say, when she saw me in the morning, all dolled up for work. I just wonder.

Author's Note: I am so sorry to Jennifer, when I said this was taking place in 1966. The year is actually 1996, and yes, Jodie uses an answering machine, because Jodie doesn't have the money for a cell phone. I am sorry, Jennifer for the confusion.