I’m A Little Teapot
by Christi Felkins
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When I was about 19, I ended up with an interview at Dick’s Last Resort at 19th and Blake in Denver. I had only experienced about three ‘professional’ interviews at that point and had no idea what to expect or what was considered to be appropriate by industry standards. I seemed to be making a good impression, and the GM (I think his name was Jimmy) was asking me about availability, and uniforms. He even had the hiring paperwork ready for me to sign. Jimmy started to hand me a pen but before he released it he said “Oh. One more thing. I need for you to animatedly sing a song.” Without skipping a beat I sang ‘I’m a little teapot’ along with the movements we all know by heart, of course!
I got the job of busser, at a place that thrived on being mean to their guests and encouraged everyone to throw trash and crawdad shells on the floor. I should mention I am pretty squeamish about food, and am one of the most naturally kind people I am aware of. As a busser it was my job to pick up garbage (crawfish shells, makeshift spit cups for chewing tobacco, and filthy napkins were never-ending). It also somehow became my job to assist bachelors and bachelorettes in taking ‘blow job’ shots, even though I was relatively shy and not legally old enough to serve alcohol. Song and dance or not, I was in the WRONG PLACE.
Fast forward a couple months to me working about hour twelve of what was supposed to be an easy three-four hour lunch shift. I stopped for a drink of water. A server who was consistently rude to me started talking shit about how much harder I should be working. I said something like “or you could maintain your tables”, and the server said “shut up cunt”.
I dropped my full bus tub on his feet like boiling water had steamed over the side, and marched my little butt right up to Jimmy’s office on the third floor of our massive space. I told him I was leaving and wouldn’t be coming back. He asked, so I told him what had just happened. While I was telling him the story, he was typing away on his computer. Jimmy then turned and said “I wouldn’t come back either. If you leave this office in an animated way I will meet you at the bottom of the stairs with a surprise.”
I paraded myself down two and half flights of open staircase on a Friday night in LoDo with both middle fingers raised proudly in the air. Jimmy used the elevator and met me at the front door/ bottom of the stairs. He handed me a (still warm from the printer) reference letter. He then called The Server over, handed him my small t-shirt that was covered in sweat and crawfish, and congratulated him on being Dick’s Newest Busser.
I have done a lot of proverbial singing and dancing for my supper. It is now 2021 and I am 42. Will I ever ‘perform’ at a job interview again? Not likely. If an employer needs me to prove myself in this way as opposed to letting my resume and people skills speak for themselves, I don’t want to work for them. I secured my most recent job by simply stating “I will be an excellent addition to your business. I know what I am doing, I come without drama, and I want this job.” On day three, I was asked to train a new hire. I am in the RIGHT PLACE.
My name is Christi. I am a 4th generation Colorado native who has been working in Denver’s service industry for 26 years. I love talking about food and spirits, but mostly I am driven by connecting with the people I serve. When I am not working I spend a lot of time bringing food to people in need; one of my favorite habits is bringing a meal to a stranger and asking them to share their story with me. That said, I LIKE people, but I LOVE dogs!
