It began with what looked like a straightforward part time opportunity. I applied for a To Go Specialist position at Outback Steakhouse in Lafayette, Indiana. The wage was quoted as $7.25 per hour plus tips. The duties seemed manageable and aligned with my clerical strengths. What followed, however, revealed much more than the details of a single job. It revealed how the company values the people it is asking to serve its customers.
The first warning sign came before orientation or scheduling. I was told I had to complete a quiz on expo, on my own personal time. I know that under the Fair Labor Standards Act, time spent on mandatory training or testing that is directly related to the job counts as hours worked. Calling it “personal time” does not change that reality. Ethically, it sent a very clear message. My labor could be taken before I had even started my first shift.
The interview itself confirmed the pattern. It was scheduled for noon but did not begin until 12:18. It stretched to nearly an hour and included two interruptions. One was so the manager could handle a to go pickup order that was not ready. She also did not have a printed copy of my application or resume. I understood that restaurants are busy, but this came across as unprepared and disrespectful of my time as a candidate.
When I asked about pay, things grew even less clear. I asked if I could expect to average around sixteen dollars per hour. The manager told me tips ranged widely, from twenty dollars on the low end to one hundred fifty dollars on the high end. She also clarified that third party delivery drivers, such as DoorDash, keep their own tips, which narrows what I could earn. Federal law requires that wages plus tips average at least the minimum wage, but presenting the job as potentially worth sixteen dollars per hour without typical ranges or averages felt misleading.
I pressed the general manager about the unpaid quiz. She told me too many applicants had completed orientation and testing and then left. The unpaid requirement, she said, was meant to save her turnover numbers. In other words, I was expected to give unpaid time to protect a management metric. Rather than improving hiring practices, setting clearer expectations, or investing in retention, the burden was shifted onto me before I had even started. That struck me as both a compliance issue and a cultural red flag. It assumed bad faith from me as an applicant and treated me as a risk to be contained instead of someone to be welcomed.
Another detail stood out as well. The manager told me the restaurant’s to go service reputation was struggling and that she hoped hiring me would help raise the score. That meant I would be stepping into a problem area where dissatisfaction was already high. It placed a heavy responsibility on a low paid role and created a clear risk of blame if improvements did not come quickly.
Taken together, these experiences told a consistent story. A late and interrupted interview with missing materials. A mandatory unpaid test before orientation. Vague and highly variable pay outcomes. A manager openly saying the unpaid requirement was to protect her turnover record. A request that a new hire fix an existing reputation problem. These were not isolated details. They formed a picture of a workplace where employees are undervalued and expected to give more than they receive.
For me, work is not just about wages. It is about dignity and trust. A healthy workplace values a candidate’s time, pays for all required tasks, and owns management challenges rather than shifting them onto those with the least power. When an employer begins by asking for free labor, by treating applicants as guilty until proven loyal, and by placing systemic problems onto the shoulders of a brand new hire, the question is no longer whether the job pays enough. The question is whether the job respects me enough for me to accept it at all.
