You're hired

The windows were dark, showcasing a black and red interior as the giant flaming chicken loomed over the doors. I realize I must've driven by it daily, I'm parked right in front of it. Now Hiring, inquire within, and it drew me in as I put the big slices in the car and went back to the door. Looking at the man, bald-headed and middle-aged, daring me to come in and see what it was all about. I took that dare, swinging the door open and stepping inside. A beautiful countertop seating with trendy glass lamps swinging above the marble. Each is a different shape, not a lot of light. I asked for the application, and he graciously handed it over with a pen, gesturing over to the high-top chairs. I could sit and fill it out, interview on the spot. I’ve heard that’s a red flag, a clear sign of desperation. I ignored that fact, I ignored the fact that for a restaurant it was empty, one man behind the counter. Was he running it all by himself? Curious eyes peer out of the open kitchen window as I fill out the application and hand it over. He seems satisfied with himself, a new hire without any effort. I'm overqualified but I’m honest, I will only be here for three months. He grins, says that's fine, no Tuesdays or Sundays, that’s alright. Only three months, and then I’m gone. It drew me in, hiding in plain sight, chicken in flames.