I had a job interview today, as an assistant pastry chef.
It was the shortest, most surreal interview ever in the history of the world, with a tiny Egyptian pastry chef who came skipping out of the back to meet me in the kitchen.
To appreciate the story, remember I am 6 feet tall. She might have been 4'9" -- it was hard to tell with all the hopping around.
She runs up to me, throws her arms around me, hugs me, cups my face in her hands, and takes my hand hands in hers and says, i heavily accented English, "I am so sorry . . . you're too hot to be a pastry chef. You should work with meat."
And skips away.
The line cooks, who were watching with interest, nearly died laughing.
For those who are puzzled, she meant my metabolism is too high . . . if you have a high metabolism, you have a higher core temperature, which means pastry dough will warm up too quickly as you work with it.
Meanwhile, someone would have to die for me to get a job in that kitchen, but they strongly suggested I check back often.