Back when we were young, itinerant lovebirds living in Whitefish, Montana, my wife applied to work at a restaurant called MacKenzie River Pizza Company. It was an hourly waitress/hostess gig like any other, but the application requested an essay on the topic of “Why you want to work at MacKenzie River Pizza Co., and why you think you would be a good addition to the team”.
I thought that was kind of ridiculous at the time. (In my old age I can see the wisdom in asking someone to demonstrate the ability to communicate well, but I still think an in-person interview is a better medium for that test in this case, and I still think asking someone to declare their love for a company before ever working there is a bit arrogant.)
I wrote a satirical response, which I ran across today in the corner of the basement of my Dropbox, and it made me laugh. I thought some of you might appreciate it.
So, without further ado, here is the essay I wrote for Pam, which she thought was super dumb, but which she did in fact turn in with her application.
When I was just 9 years old, my dad brought home our first MacKenzie River Pizza. We lived in Detroit, so it was a long walk. I remember the aroma, the colors, and the warmth emanating from the inside of that delightful little box. Sometimes, when I close my eyes on a warm spring day, I am transported back there once more.
As I took my first bite, my perception of taste was altered for all time. Since that day, Domino’s and Pizza Hut have become cardboard to me. Cardboard!
My dad used to say that the perfect pizza was life’s mystery. Those words have guided me up until this point, and will until the day I die. It is my goal, my desire, my dream, to serve to people that thing which changed my life so many years ago.
Although I have never actually served a pizza to a person, that act has haunted my dreams for as long as I can remember, and I cannot imagine a task I am better suited to. Two years ago, after winning the bronze in the 50M standing compound bow competition in the Olympics, I decided that the only thing I hadn’t accomplished yet was working for the company that had made that victory possible: MacKenzie River. You see, as a child, after finishing a MacKenzie River Pizza, my dad would tack the empty box to the old elm tree in the yard and have me shoot arrows at it from the back porch.
I am an award-winning archer. And I am a pizza lover. I think you can see why that makes me the best candidate for the job.
P.S. (Yes, she got the job.)
P.P.S. (No, MacKenzie River Pizza Co. did not end up being quite worthy of the love they were requesting up front, at least as an employer.)