I run into the lobby area of the kitchen, where servers such as myself were supposed to have met up over an hour ago to receive our instructions and duties for today’s banquet. Of course no one is here; only one other waiter— Nathan— and myself were scheduled to work today, and Nathan is busy running around serving the dinner that was supposed to be out a while ago, with what was supposed to be my help.
I hate that the hotel always understaffs us and expect us to do the work of two or three people for low pay. But a job’s a job, and this one was the only one I could get quickly when I started graduate school.
I lean on a lounge chair in the lobby area and hurriedly brush my hair. I’d only had time to quickly change from my street clothes to my work uniform, and had had no time to tidy up. I’d spent the drive over calling and texting the hotel to let them know I was on my way— and I’d already texted them from class to let them know I’d be late— but no one answered, so I can’t help but be afraid I might not have a job anymore.
“Emily!” snaps John Warner, as he comes out of the kitchen.
He’s head of staff at this hotel, with a big ego and a big temper to match. You would think he thought he was God’s gift to the service industry or something.
“I can’t believe your nerve, showing up over an hour late! And just casually leaning over like a slob and brushing your messy hair. How pathetic.”
Would you rather me not show up at all? I want to ask, but everyone knows that nobody challenges John. The last person who did, a feisty redhead named Carly, had been fired on the spot, and she was one of the best waitresses.
Her retort was even funny and entertaining—she said she was late because she had had a job interview at a competing hotel and if he wanted to keep her, he’d best start apologizing. But John had no mercy. So I’m certainly not going to follow in Carly’s footsteps, especially since, unlike her, I have no other job lined up.
“I’m sorry, John,” I begin, standing straight up and stepping closer to him to show him my sincerity.
I sweep my hair into the required bun and place a hair clip over it to hold it all in place, while I keep talking to him.
“I promise this won’t happen again. I had a mandatory meeting for a project at school that ran late, and I slipped out as soon as I could, but now I realize that I am going to just have to skip certain school obligations for the sake of my employ—”
“Obviously, you view your studies as more important than your job,” John snaps, completely cutting me off and ignoring my explanation. “That’s not the kind of employee we want here. But Nathan can’t possibly serve this whole banquet by himself. We waited for you as long as we could, but without hearing anything from you—”
“I tried multiple times to call and text!” I protest.
“—I started helping Nathan serve,” John continues. “So, pardon us but we were a bit too busy to answer your late attempts to contact us. As you know, I shouldn’t be helping to serve a banquet when there are other, more important tasks for me to tend to. I really do not appreciate this and you are most certainly not the type of employee we want here.”
“Okay,” I say, realizing all hope is lost, and it will just annoy John more if I try to fight for my job.
He’s obviously so perturbed at having to stoop to the lowly task of serving guests to listen to my reasons for being late, or my assurances that it won’t happen again.
“Well get out there and help Nathan serve,” he orders, and I’m more confused than ever.
Am I fired or not?
At least I will get paid for tonight, I think with relief, since the money I’ll make is greatly needed for next month’s rent.
“Yes, Sir,” I say immediately, and head back to the kitchen for a cart and trays full of food to bring out.
When I enter the banquet hall, I see that there’s an award ceremony for some rich pricks going on again. That’s about all that ever happens here. Billionaires showing off their wealth to other billionaires, and eating half their salads before demanding they be sent back for some minor imperfection. Never mind that people in the real world are going hungry.
I don’t have time to fume, though, once I see Nathan trying to serve all the tables by himself. I stop feeling annoyed at all the injustices in the world and jump in to help the one I’ve clearly been putting Nathan through by being late.
I head towards Nathan, hoping he’s not too mad at me.
I can’t help but notice some guys in military uniform at one of the tables near the front, because they’re smoking hot. Maybe it’s just because of my past but I’ve always had a thing for military guys. I try not to get too distracted since I’ve already messed up big time.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “My group meeting for a big class project ran over, and…”
“No problem, Emily,” he says, smiling his always- friendly smile. I’m grateful for his understanding after how harshly John treated me. “I’m just glad you’re here to help me out. They definitely should have scheduled at least three more servers tonight.”
“Tell me about it!”
“But what else is new, right?”
“Right,” I shake my head at him as I move away with my cart full of food.
The hotel is always trying to save money by staffing less servers to do more work, and sometimes it’s just impossible. Of course, they don’t care about that when it comes time for performance evaluations. Somehow Nathan and I are regularly expected to do the job of a much fuller staff.
As I approach the first table, I can already tell that everyone’s mad at the delayed food. This should be fun. But at least I have some eye candy to make the evening pass by a little faster.