Filling out applications for restaurant jobs is a worthless activity, commonly classified as torture. Here’s how it works:

You go to a restaurant which has announced its need for employees. You bring your resume, because you have to. If you don’t have a resume, you’re not trying to get a job.

At the restaurant, there may be 100+ other desperate, jobless losers to keep you company.

You get an application from the hostess. It will have a number on it designating your place in the wait-an-hour-for-a-five-second-interview line. While you wait with application #137, you fill out its multiple pages, with multiple sections, which ask the following:

Basic Info:

Please fill out your name, phone number, email, and all that other shit that is clearly typed on your resume. We only know that you’re truly ready to be a slave if you give us this information again in your best I-hate-this-and-I-hate-myself handwriting.

Not So Basic Info:

Please give us more information about yourself than is even close to being necessary.

Your real name. C’mon. We know you’re a criminal and you changed your name.

Social security number.

Have you committed a felony? Please explain, as if there is any explanation for a felony that would result in us hiring you.

Mother’s maiden name.

Can you legally work in the United States, you damn dirty foreigner?

Bank account passwords.

Have you ever applied here before? Please tell us so that we can reject your application even faster this time.

Blood type.

Have you ever been fired from a job before? Please explain why exactly we shouldn’t hire you.

Superhero identity.

Previous Employment:

Please continue to prove your slave dedication by entering your employment history, which is also clearly typed on your resume. And, yes, we really do want the name of your supervisor and his phone number from the place you worked 5 years ago.

References:

Please list names and phone numbers of people who like you so we may call them and make them not like you after we harass them.

Education:

Tell us every school you ever attended and what degrees you earned. Yes, we really did ask for your elementary school and whether or not you graduated from it.

Skills:

Nunchuck or otherwise, you better have some, ’cause, like girls, we like people with skills.

The Exam:

This is the part of the application which no one, no matter their schooling or experience, can complete perfectly. It is a test. You will be graded harshly. We know you’re a raging moron, so please prove it now so we may throw away your application.

Questions:

1. List the five most obscure wine varietals you know. Give a geographical location where the grape is commonly grown, and mention what the soil smells like. Describe each wine as you would to a master sommelier.
2. Name and describe three types of Sicilian grappa.
3. What are the ingredients of an Exploding British Gumdrop cocktail?
4. What is 2 + 6?
5. List every ingredient in the following sauces: Remoulade, Bernaise, and Financière.
6. Name 16 spices used in Tibetan cooking.
7. Which of the following words are misspelled? Potatoe, Cheeken, Suk, Mai, Cocke
8. If a customer asks for a flying tulip with his ribeye steak, what do you bring him?
9. Name and diagram every possible cut of steak. Explain the flavor characteristics for each as you would to Jean-Georges.
10. If a customer urinated on you, what would you do?

And finally…

Sign Your Life Away:

Sign and date under a series of clauses that say things like:

When you sign this, you promise you’re not lying about anything and have never lied, like ever, in your whole life. And if we find out you lied, we can, like, not hire you.

And:

When you sign this, we have the right to stalk you. In every way possible. If there is a way to get information about you, you give us permission to do so. This includes stalking you on Facebook and Twitter and wherever else you may have posted personal information about yourself. We can stalk you and we will use it against you. And again, not hire you.

Click photo to enlarge.

Upon completing your application full of lies, you must wait. And wait some more. Finally, #137 will be called and you will hand your application and resume to a suit, who, like a bad one night stand, won’t look you in the eye, and says he’ll call you but never will.

You leave feeling worthless and abused, and you will repeat the process at the next restaurant.