In mid 2001 I was looking for a job. One of the places that I had applied to (with an ad that did not mention the pay rate) got back to me. As we spoke on the phone she gave a job description along with the range of benefits and the pay rate. It fell well below my expectations and I already knew I would not be pursuing this opportunity. At the end of the call she asked me to come in for an in-person interview. I reluctantly agreed but only so I could use it as practice for the interview for my real job once I found it. The day of the interview I had to leave my temp job early and thus lose out on the pay for the rest of the day. I had some trouble finding the place as well. To top it off the weather was cloudy and depressing. I sat through the interview and gave them all of the answers that I had rehearsed. As I walked towards my car I sarcastically told myself, "Oh yeah I would love to work here." Shortly afterwards I accepted their offer (which was the same as the one over the phone) and stayed there for the next 6 years.
"My parents, brother, and I left Iran in 1980, shortly after the revolution. After a brief stay in Italy, we packed all our belongings once again and headed west to the exotic and the unknown: Vancouver. We had recently been accepted as landed immigrants, meaning Canada graciously opened its doors and we gratefully accepted; we arrived at Vancouver International Airport on my 10th birthday, three suitcases and one sewing machine in tow. After respectful but intense questioning at immigration, we were dropped off at a hotel on Robson Street, which was then still a couple years shy of becoming the fashionable tourist hub it is today. We were jetlagged, culture shocked, and hungry, so that first night, my father and brother courageously ventured out into the wild in search of provisions. I fell asleep before they returned. The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. and ravenously feasted on a cold Quarter Pounder with cheese and limp French fries that had been left by my beds...

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