Priya leaned over to squint at the screen. “Did he actually—”
“He attached six shirtless mirror selfies, all from different angles. It looks like he’s trying to create a 3D model of himself to feed a printer.”
“That’s . . . wow. Nice arms.”
“The last one is from a bathroom at what I think is a Planet Fitness.”
“Definitely hire that one, but tell him he is never allowed to wear clothes.”
I closed Brad’s email and moved to the next. “Wait, this person’s entire resume is written in Comic Sans.”
“No.”
“Yes. And it’s neon green text.”
“On what background?”
“Hot pink.”
“That is a hate crime, not a job application.”
“It really is.” Ikept reading. “Their special skills include ‘being really good at beer pong,’ ‘knowing all the words to Lizzo songs,’ and ‘can open a bottle with literally anything, even my teeth, though I don’t recommend that anymore because dental work is expensive.’”
Priya doubled over so fast the towel almost fell off her head. “Make it stop. I can’t breathe.”
“Oh, there’s more. Under previous work experience, they listed ‘Professional Spring Breaker, Panama City Beach, 2019 to 2022.’”
“How is that four years?”
“I have no idea. Maybe they never left.” I scrolled through more applications, most of which were variations on “no experience but willing to learn” or “worked at a bar once in college.” Then I found one that looked decent. “Okay, wait. This one might be real.”
“What does it say?”
“‘Dear Hiring Manager, I’m applying for the bartender position at Barbacks. I have five years of bartending experience, most recently at The Guild in Tampa. I’m experienced with craft cocktails, beer selection, and high-volume service. I’m comfortable working independently or as part of a team and am looking for a new opportunity after my previous establishment closed last month. References available.Thank you for your consideration. Sincerely, Morgan Hayes.’”
“She sounds . . . normal.”
“Suspiciously normal.” I opened the attached resume. “Five years at The Guild. Before that, three years at a place in Orlando. This says she attended bartending school and has references. There’s no mention of CIA training or shirtless photos.”
“Hire her.”
“I’minterviewingher.” I created a new folder and moved that resume into it.
I scrolled through the rest of the emails. Most were immediate rejections. One person had somehow attached their tax returns instead of a resume, but I found a few more that looked promising:
Benji Kwon - seven years’ experience, worked at several upscale bars in Tampa, specialized in whiskey.
David Kim - four years’ experience, previously worked at a sports bar in Clearwater, emphasized teamwork and high-volume service.
Sarah Morrison - six years’ experience, craft cocktail focused, recently relocated to Tampa from Atlanta.
“That is four decent candidates,” Priya said, reading over my shoulder. “Not bad out of forty-three applications.”
“If you ignore the CIA operative and theBarRescueenthusiast and Shirtless Brad.”
“We will never forget Shirtless Brad, will we?”
“Absolutely not. That’s dinner party conversation for the next decade. Who knows? Maybe we’ll need a dancer at some point. He sure looks the part.”
