Boot Camp

A few months ago, looking for part-time positions in Munich, I came across an ad for an individual looking to hire a cook for five people currently living in the Munich area. As someone who loves to shop for food, cook, and bake, I thought that this could be a cool opportunity for a few months, before entering the "real world" again. So, I responded to the ad and quickly learned that the position had, sadly, been filled.

Then, just three weeks ago, while in Berlin, I received and email from Jake* wondering if I was still interested in the position.

"Yes!" I responded, but also let Jake know that I was in Berlin and wouldn't be back in Munich for a couple of weeks. He asked me to let him know when I returned so we could schedule an interview.

Upon returning to Munich on a Wednesday night, I emailed Jake and let him know that I was back in town and probed him for more details about the position. The next morning, Jake called me at 10:30am to see if I was available for an interview that day, just an hour and a half after his call. He also said that he could not discuss details of the job over the phone or via email and that I would find out everything once I arrived for the interview.

Not yet showered and dressed, I said that I was happy to make the 45 minute trek across town and could be at his apartment at 12:00pm. Hurriedly, I rushed to shower and get dressed for the "casual" interview.

At this point in my story, this cook position and interview may seem a bit sketchy. So, I would like to note that throughout our correspondence, Jake was completely professional and always emailed me from a state.gov email address. I was never worried about my safety.

On my way to the interview, I fantasized about who I would be cooking for...consular officers, big-time government officials, maybe even Obama, himself?!

Once I arrived outside Jake's apartment complex, per his instructions, I called him. He informed me that he was still at work and I would be let in and then interviewed by his supervisor, Ross*.

Five minutes later, I see an extremely buff 20-something male bounding across the complex, swinging his arms like a young Arnold Swarzenegger. He approached the gate, introduced himself, and asked me to follow him up to the apartment. We briefly passed a friendly security guard who double checked that I was, indeed, the interviewee. Then, I ran to keep up with Ross as we sped to the apartment.

After being taken through a college man's dream pad filled with a pool table, guitar hero, and a flat screen TV bigger than me, I sat down with Ross for my interview.

I soon found out that I was interviewing to cook for five marines, here in Munich on one of their many annual rotations, sent to protect the US Consulate. "Cool?!" I though. "Could be interesting..."

Throughout my interview, Ross did not ask me a lot of questions. Instead he sternly examined my resume. His first concern was that I majored in Journalism in college, even though my resume does not show any experience in that field. Cooking in a house full of marines, he was worried that I could easily get them in trouble via the written word. In response, I expressed that I do not do anything with my degree, but also failed to mention that I have a blog. (Yet, I also did not mention, but was willing to sign a contract stating that I would not write anything about my experiences cooking at their house.)

Ross's second concern was that there was no cooking experience on my resume. Anticipating this, I explained to Ross that I love to cook, read food blogs everyday, etc. etc.

This resulted in me being forced to cook an impromptu meal for the five marines with whatever they had on stock in their kitchen. Basically, all I had to work with was canned food and a freezer full of meat. I felt like I was on a poor man's version of Top Chef.

Deciding what to make, I referred to part of my conversation during my earlier interview with Ross:

Ross: What is your cooking specialty?
Me: A dish or a type of food?
Ross: Both.
Me: Well, I can make a delicious bolognese sauce.
Ross: What is bolognese?
Me: Meat sauce.
Ross: Oh, okay. What else can you cook?
Me: Italian, Indian, Asian...
Ross: Can you make Mexican food?

With that and figuring the marines (probably all from the southern half of the United States - and yes I was right) would enjoy a taste of home, I decided to make chili and corn bread.

While cooking in their huge American-style kitchen, I learned that these 20-something marine boys do not recycle. At first this made me angry. And then, disappointed. "Typical Americans," I thought. "Shame on you!"

Then, I thought of the impact my employment could make on their lifestyle. I was ready to start a recycling program for these proud men (which is easy, or at least a priority in Germany).

Regarding my chili, coming from Texas, Ross approved of my meal and said that they would be in touch after I filled out a huge packet of papers for my background check, including a list of all the places I have lived in the past ten years (11 total), whether or not I have ever belonged to a communist organization (no), and every contact I have in the United States (I skipped this question). Whew.

After running by the marines' house several times to deliver background check document after background check document, I did not get the job.

Jake said that they could not hire me due to the fact that they are looking for a long term cook and me being in Munich only three and half more months was not beneficial to their needs. However, in truth, maybe I wasn't hired because my husband and I have openly protested the war in Iraq. Maybe it was because I was a journalism major and I have a blog (thank you for the great writing material, by the way!). Or maybe, it was my just my chili. I guess I will never know...

* Names have been changed to protect those involved in this story, specifically me.