Post by Kelsey Spencer on Aug 7, 2016 23:56:47 GMT
Hey there, guys. Sit down, make yourselves comfortable, and let me tell you a story; a story of me trying to do the right thing.
Here I am - back in Purity, Louisiana. WICKED #16 has come and gone, and the fallout from the show has been...less than desirable. See, Annabel and I were gonna set the standard for tag teams in PAW; we were gonna advance to Bad Moon Rising, win the Turmoil and become the first-ever PAW Tag Team Champions! We had it all mapped out, it would've been the perfect fairy tale ending…
But, that's not how it went at all. Arguably the biggest shot I got in was on my own partner, when I knocked Annabel off the apron with that clothesline. Not only that, I was the one who ate the pinfall - it was my fault we lost. I take pride that it took both of them to keep me down, and there’s no shame in being beaten by the best, but I let my partner - my best friend - down in what was supposed to be the biggest moment of her career.
Smelling like a gym bag filled with dirty, sweaty clothes, I slowly walked into the air conditioned facility; I hadn’t been able to shower that day, nor had I had the means to travel home to Baltimore and gather more of my clothing, so I was forced to make do with what I was wearing. As I entered and approached the counter, a young woman dressed in a bright red polo shirt with an equally-red cap on top was busy talking on the phone. I waited politely, fidgeting with my backpack strap to keep my mind occupied. The call didn’t last much longer, and she greeted me with a friendly smile.
“Welcome to Papa John’s Pizza, how can I help you?” she enquired with a grin.
“I’m, uhh… Here for the interview..?” I nervously announced, anxiously clutching my bag strap with both hands. I’d never interviewed for a “real” job - I’ve either trained to wrestle or wrestled my entire adult life, so I wasn’t too sure how I should act. The girl behind the counter directed me through a door to her left, before greeting the customers behind me - whom were no doubt repulsed by my stench.
Times are tough; I’m the sole provider for my mother, who isn’t quite capable of taking care of herself anymore. She suffers from many physical and mental debilitations - some of which were hereditarily passed on to me - and at almost 60 years of age, she’s barely mobile. Not to mention she was brutally beaten by one of my former work colleagues a few months back; and when you factor in my dad divorcing and leaving her a couple of years ago, taking pretty much everything with him, I’m all she has left. I had to do things I’m not proud of, just so I could save the money to bring her over to the US from Australia… But she’s here now, and that’s all that matters. I need to make sure I can give her the life she deserves, make her life the best it can possibly be.
I sheepishly opened the door and peeked my head in. “Hello..?” I whispered, and was greeted by a sharp-dressed, suit-and-tie wearing man, who approached and shook my hand rather vigorously.
“Ms Spencer, I presume?” he asked in a bellowing, baritone voice.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Stuart Murphy, the owner of this franchise,” he introduced himself, adjusting his tie and motioning toward a seat at his desk. “Have a seat, Ms Spencer.”
I did as I was instructed, trembling slightly as anxiety takes over my body like a disease. I balled my fists, gripped my jeans and tried to regain my composure - luckily, it was under the desk, so it was out of his view. He folded his hands, resting them on the desk. “You’re looking to work at Papa John’s?” he questioned.
“Oh, yes, sir!” I tried to sound as enthusiastic as I could; I heard that’s key to nailing an interview.
“Have you got a copy of your resume on you?”
“Uhh… I didn’t know I had to bring that with me…”
“That’s alright,” he responded, as he furled his eyebrows and turned to his computer. “I should have a copy of it from your online application…” If you could only imagine how I felt in that moment… I thought I’d already blown my chance without even getting into the meat and potatoes of the interview. I watched on as he scrolled through the document, which was just out of my view - I couldn’t see what exactly he’s fixated on. “You’re a wrestler?” he piped up, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“Yes, sir. For PAW.”
“PAW?” he drummed his finger on the desk, before turning his head slightly toward me. “That sounds familiar…”
“We usually have shows in the amusement park downtown,” I informed him, which prompted him to snap his fingers.
“I’ve been there with my daughters!”
“Oh, you guys are wrestling fans?”
“No,” he bluntly replied. “My kids are rollercoaster fans, though.”
There was an awkward silence in the air as he returned to inspecting my resume. My stomach was doing somersaults - what would I do if I couldn’t get this job? I expected a pay cut after requesting my release from VoW, but I wasn’t anticipating it would be this much… Not to mention I missed out on the winner’s cut of that tag team match. I was left with hardly anything. I know I shouldn’t complain - there are heaps of people out there less fortunate than I am, I understand that - but it’s hard when I have to sacrifice breakfast, lunch and sometimes dinner to ensure my mum can live comfortably.
Wait… “Comfortably” isn’t the right word… She doesn’t have to starve like I do, is what I’m trying to say.
“You’re about to turn 28, and you haven’t worked a conventional job?” he asked me, the look in his eyes conveying the message that he wasn’t too impressed.
“I haven’t really had a need to, sir. Wrestling’s been kind to me.”
“So why apply for this job? Why don’t you just work in other wrestling companies?”
“My shoulder wouldn’t be able to handle that stress,” I disclosed. What did I have to lose telling him all this, anyhow? “Working for more than one promotion takes the fun out of wrestling for me… It feels more like work. I wanna wrestle for the rest of my life, but I can’t if I burn the candle at both ends…”
I’m no expert at reading human emotions, but I could tell he wasn’t impressed with my application. “Thanks for expressing interest, Ms Spencer, but I don’t think you’re the kind of employee we’re looking for at this establishment.” My heart sank to my shoe as he extended his hand to show me the door.
“Wait, please…”
“I’m sorry, Ms Spencer. You’re not what we’re looking for.”
“You don’t understand!” I cried, fighting my urge to break down as I practically begged him to reconsider. “I need this job! I can’t provide for my mum and myself without it… Please, sir…”
I don’t know if it was out of pity, but he actually reconsidered.
“Can you drive? Do you have a car?” he questioned.
“Y-yes, I can! I do!” I stuttered as I dried my eyes.
“I need more drivers,” he informed me, moving over to a filing cabinet. “I’m not confident having a wrestler handling food in my kitchen, but you’re at least competent enough to take the pizza to the customers.” He tossed over a plastic bag, containing that trademark red polo shirt and cap. “Be here Monday.”
I graciously accepted the position and gleefully left Mr. Murphy’s office. I have absolutely no clue what to expect as a pizza delivery girl - maybe, if I save my money, I can eventually get my mum a much nicer place to live? I could go back to eating fried chicken whenever I please; I could pay for my nephew to go to college!
All I know is the hardest part of the job is gonna be restraining myself around those delicious pizza pies.
Here I am - back in Purity, Louisiana. WICKED #16 has come and gone, and the fallout from the show has been...less than desirable. See, Annabel and I were gonna set the standard for tag teams in PAW; we were gonna advance to Bad Moon Rising, win the Turmoil and become the first-ever PAW Tag Team Champions! We had it all mapped out, it would've been the perfect fairy tale ending…
But, that's not how it went at all. Arguably the biggest shot I got in was on my own partner, when I knocked Annabel off the apron with that clothesline. Not only that, I was the one who ate the pinfall - it was my fault we lost. I take pride that it took both of them to keep me down, and there’s no shame in being beaten by the best, but I let my partner - my best friend - down in what was supposed to be the biggest moment of her career.
Smelling like a gym bag filled with dirty, sweaty clothes, I slowly walked into the air conditioned facility; I hadn’t been able to shower that day, nor had I had the means to travel home to Baltimore and gather more of my clothing, so I was forced to make do with what I was wearing. As I entered and approached the counter, a young woman dressed in a bright red polo shirt with an equally-red cap on top was busy talking on the phone. I waited politely, fidgeting with my backpack strap to keep my mind occupied. The call didn’t last much longer, and she greeted me with a friendly smile.
“Welcome to Papa John’s Pizza, how can I help you?” she enquired with a grin.
“I’m, uhh… Here for the interview..?” I nervously announced, anxiously clutching my bag strap with both hands. I’d never interviewed for a “real” job - I’ve either trained to wrestle or wrestled my entire adult life, so I wasn’t too sure how I should act. The girl behind the counter directed me through a door to her left, before greeting the customers behind me - whom were no doubt repulsed by my stench.
Times are tough; I’m the sole provider for my mother, who isn’t quite capable of taking care of herself anymore. She suffers from many physical and mental debilitations - some of which were hereditarily passed on to me - and at almost 60 years of age, she’s barely mobile. Not to mention she was brutally beaten by one of my former work colleagues a few months back; and when you factor in my dad divorcing and leaving her a couple of years ago, taking pretty much everything with him, I’m all she has left. I had to do things I’m not proud of, just so I could save the money to bring her over to the US from Australia… But she’s here now, and that’s all that matters. I need to make sure I can give her the life she deserves, make her life the best it can possibly be.
I sheepishly opened the door and peeked my head in. “Hello..?” I whispered, and was greeted by a sharp-dressed, suit-and-tie wearing man, who approached and shook my hand rather vigorously.
“Ms Spencer, I presume?” he asked in a bellowing, baritone voice.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Stuart Murphy, the owner of this franchise,” he introduced himself, adjusting his tie and motioning toward a seat at his desk. “Have a seat, Ms Spencer.”
I did as I was instructed, trembling slightly as anxiety takes over my body like a disease. I balled my fists, gripped my jeans and tried to regain my composure - luckily, it was under the desk, so it was out of his view. He folded his hands, resting them on the desk. “You’re looking to work at Papa John’s?” he questioned.
“Oh, yes, sir!” I tried to sound as enthusiastic as I could; I heard that’s key to nailing an interview.
“Have you got a copy of your resume on you?”
“Uhh… I didn’t know I had to bring that with me…”
“That’s alright,” he responded, as he furled his eyebrows and turned to his computer. “I should have a copy of it from your online application…” If you could only imagine how I felt in that moment… I thought I’d already blown my chance without even getting into the meat and potatoes of the interview. I watched on as he scrolled through the document, which was just out of my view - I couldn’t see what exactly he’s fixated on. “You’re a wrestler?” he piped up, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“Yes, sir. For PAW.”
“PAW?” he drummed his finger on the desk, before turning his head slightly toward me. “That sounds familiar…”
“We usually have shows in the amusement park downtown,” I informed him, which prompted him to snap his fingers.
“I’ve been there with my daughters!”
“Oh, you guys are wrestling fans?”
“No,” he bluntly replied. “My kids are rollercoaster fans, though.”
There was an awkward silence in the air as he returned to inspecting my resume. My stomach was doing somersaults - what would I do if I couldn’t get this job? I expected a pay cut after requesting my release from VoW, but I wasn’t anticipating it would be this much… Not to mention I missed out on the winner’s cut of that tag team match. I was left with hardly anything. I know I shouldn’t complain - there are heaps of people out there less fortunate than I am, I understand that - but it’s hard when I have to sacrifice breakfast, lunch and sometimes dinner to ensure my mum can live comfortably.
Wait… “Comfortably” isn’t the right word… She doesn’t have to starve like I do, is what I’m trying to say.
“You’re about to turn 28, and you haven’t worked a conventional job?” he asked me, the look in his eyes conveying the message that he wasn’t too impressed.
“I haven’t really had a need to, sir. Wrestling’s been kind to me.”
“So why apply for this job? Why don’t you just work in other wrestling companies?”
“My shoulder wouldn’t be able to handle that stress,” I disclosed. What did I have to lose telling him all this, anyhow? “Working for more than one promotion takes the fun out of wrestling for me… It feels more like work. I wanna wrestle for the rest of my life, but I can’t if I burn the candle at both ends…”
I’m no expert at reading human emotions, but I could tell he wasn’t impressed with my application. “Thanks for expressing interest, Ms Spencer, but I don’t think you’re the kind of employee we’re looking for at this establishment.” My heart sank to my shoe as he extended his hand to show me the door.
“Wait, please…”
“I’m sorry, Ms Spencer. You’re not what we’re looking for.”
“You don’t understand!” I cried, fighting my urge to break down as I practically begged him to reconsider. “I need this job! I can’t provide for my mum and myself without it… Please, sir…”
I don’t know if it was out of pity, but he actually reconsidered.
“Can you drive? Do you have a car?” he questioned.
“Y-yes, I can! I do!” I stuttered as I dried my eyes.
“I need more drivers,” he informed me, moving over to a filing cabinet. “I’m not confident having a wrestler handling food in my kitchen, but you’re at least competent enough to take the pizza to the customers.” He tossed over a plastic bag, containing that trademark red polo shirt and cap. “Be here Monday.”
I graciously accepted the position and gleefully left Mr. Murphy’s office. I have absolutely no clue what to expect as a pizza delivery girl - maybe, if I save my money, I can eventually get my mum a much nicer place to live? I could go back to eating fried chicken whenever I please; I could pay for my nephew to go to college!
All I know is the hardest part of the job is gonna be restraining myself around those delicious pizza pies.