Chapter 8- Interview

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I entered through the font door. It was so greasy. The sent of canola oil was casted from the fast food. A man with a stubby red beard, and a bald head, communicating with customers, in a hyperactive way.

Maybe he knows who the owner is.

I went up to him, and tapped lightly on his shoulder. He turned away from the customers.

"Yes?"

"Do you know who the owner is?"

"Actually, I'm the owner. Do you have a complaint?"

"I'm here for an interview."

He grinned at me, instructing me to follow him. He showed me his office. It was cramp, covered in posters, with reviews and awards. 

"What makes you think that you're able to serve all those people?"

"I have a brain."

He smirked at me.

"Blunt. I like that. You're hired."

"Seriously? It was that easy?"

"But, since your a Nomad, you'll have to be interned. Monday. Sounds good?"

I nodd my head in reply. Guess I work here on Mondays.


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