I got the job because I happened to see a Help Wanted sign in the window and walked in to ask about it. The manager looked like Ted DiBiase if he'd blown his knees out, nursed himself back to health on nothing but meatball subs, and then choked a man to death over a poker game. The interview he gave me consisted of two questions -- "Do you have a car?" and "Can you start tonight?" This was roughly the same interview process faced by Dennis Haysbert in Heat.
I answered "yes" to both questions, so I started that night -- he just handed me a stack of cash and sent me out to deliver sandwiches until 2 o' clock in the morning. He didn't even check to make sure I had a driver's license. For the first two weeks I worked there, the manager knew literally nothing about me beyond my first name and a general description he could provide the police in the event of my disappearance. He didn't ask for my last name, my address, or my phone number until the day he gave me my first paycheck, which I watched him type up on a personal computer in the back office. Incidentally, the "back office" was a balsa wood hobbit hut he had constructed for himself next to the fire exit behind the kitchen. It occurs to me now that in all likelihood I was never an official employee.
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For example, this is pretty much what every payday looked like.