Minimum wage woes

So as I've begun the search for a job in NYC, I've been reminded of previous jobs that I've had and the process of what it took to get them. I was telling Jordan the other night about my particularly embarrassing entrance into the working world. Pretty sure I still haven't recovered from it yet.

To set the stage:

I was an awkward 17 year old desperately looking for someplace that would forgive my lack of experience and hire me on to work for them. Lucky for me, my friend had just gotten a job at a soon-to-open hot-spot, Chipotle. She convinced me to apply so I somewhat pessimistically turned in my humble application. I was shocked to receive a phone call shortly thereafter informing me that I had scored my very own first job interview! Go me!

Evidence of my awkwardness...

The event:

I showed up to the interview nervous and unsure of the questions they would ask me. I sailed through the first set of questions, assuring the manager that I am indeed a responsible and mature individual. Yes, I can drive! Yes, I can arrive to work on time! Yes, I will do everything within my power to make each burrito a spiritual experience for the customer! It was all going swimmingly.

I seemed to have him pretty well convinced, so he then asked me the following question: "How much money would you like to make?"

Now you see, in my tiny little 17 year old brain I heard, "How much money do you make?" 

Confused, I thought to myself, None. That's why I'm applying for this job, silly.

Before I could fully process what the intended question must have been, out of my mouth stumbled the words,
"Uh, just my allowance."

Silence.

"Excuse me?"

"You know, just what my parents...uh, give...me...yeah..."

At this point, gauging from the confused and pitying expression on his face, I began speculating on what kind of hole I had just dug myself into.

"Um. Right. I was actually wondering how much you would like to make."

Face. Palm.

There's just no recovering from that.

Let me tell you, they must have been desperate for an English speaking white girl because miraculously, I got the job. 

In related news, Jordan and I went to Chipotle in New York last week! Flashbacks of teenage awkwardness and humiliating clumsiness were kept at a minimum as I gorged myself on the all-too-familiar-tasting bazillion calorie burrito. I can also firmly attest that life is much better this side of high school.