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“If I wasn’t a regular here, I would say it’s the frantic look in your eye. But I know all of Rusty Oak’s staff. You’re new.”
I glance at Jay who is mixing the drinks I’ve just ordered for my table. He seems to be keeping an eye on Harold and me, but it’s hard to tell with the way his longish black hair hangs in his face.
“Well, yes, I am new here. But I’ve waitressed before.”
“At a bar?”
“No, but…”
The old man chuckles affectionately. “Serving people food and serving people drinks are two completely different animals. I hope you’re strong enough to face this one.”
As I try to decipher what he’s trying to say, Jay appears with the drinks I’ve just requested, setting them on a table. “Less talking, more working. Those two tables have empty glasses that you need to collect.”
I want to snap at Jay. The retort is on the tip of my tongue, but I can feel the older man watching us. It gives me the strength to keep from stooping to Jay’s level.
I nod at Jay, grabbing the drinks from the bar and heading back to the table of college kids. I can do this. I’ve handled worse than a busy bar and an overbearing boss.
I handled worse when the whole high school turned against me because someone wrote a lie about me in a bathroom stall. Hannah stood by me, and we were treated like pariahs. I handled it when my dad passed away just a month ago, and I chose to give up the adult life I had established for myself in Maryland to come back to be with my mother. I’ve handled, and I’ve handled, and I’ve handled.
Jay is going to be easy enough to handle.
As I distribute the drinks, the guy who made the “hanky panky” comment gives me a lingering look. “So, what’s your name?”
“Violet,” I reply, keeping my tone polite but distant. I may have come into this bar to get laid a few days ago, but I’m working now. “Enjoy your drinks.”
I turn away before he can say anything else, making my way around the tables in my section to collect the empty glasses. As I collect them, I feel Jay’s eyes on me, a constant pressure.
Dreading facing him again since he appears to be in a terrible mood today, I cradle the glasses carefully and take drink orders from another table. They start asking me if I go to the local college, and we engage in conversation for a few minutes.
When I return to the bar with the empty glasses and orders, Jay gives me a look. “You need to be faster, Violet. We’re not running a daycare here. People come to the bar with their friends so they can engage in conversation with those friends. They don’t need to talk to you.”
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. “I’m doing my best, Jay. It’s my first night, and I’m still getting the hang of things. All of my customers are happy. You’re the only one who seems to have an issue.”
“We need efficiency, not excuses. Make your best better.”
I feel my temper rising but force myself to stay calm. Anger has been a way of covering up hurt in the past, but I know that blowing up at Jay right now will only do one thing- make me lose my job. “I understand. I’ll try to speed up.”
He leans in, his voice low but stern. “Trying isn’t good enough. I need you to do it.”
I clench my fists, holding back the urge to snap back. Instead, I turn and head to another table, plastering the smile back on my face as I take their orders.
Inside, I’m seething.
I’ve never given up on anything, and I’m not about to start now, even though everything in me is telling me to march out that door.
Every time I think I’m catching up, Jay finds something else to criticize. I can feel the tension between us, and it makes me dread interacting with him. Around 8:00, another bartender comes in, and I start bringing my orders exclusively to him so I can avoid Jay as much as possible.
The kind, older man, whose name I’ve learned is Harold, catches my eye again as I pass by. “Hang in there, kid. It gets easier.”
I manage a small smile. “Thanks, Harold.”
Jay comes up behind me, his voice a low growl. “Quit chatting and get back to work, Violet.”
I turn to face him, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. “I’m working as hard as I can, Jay. You don’t have to keep breathing down my neck.”
He crosses his arms, his expression unyielding. “You need to understand that this is a high-pressure job. If you can’t handle it, maybe this isn’t the place for you.”
I stare at him defiantly. “I can handle it. I just need some time to adjust.”
