“Can I start you off with some waters?” I keep my voice friendly, yet disinterested, trying to walk the precarious line of being a woman in the food service industry.
“I am feeling rather parched at the moment.” Vernon smacks his lips, and his buddy guffaws.
I want to be anywhere other than here.
I want to be out of the restaurant.
I want to be across town.
I want to be in a tiny cockpit, high up in the air, with a broad shoulder brushing mine.
But I don’t get any of that. I have to stay here, stuck in a loud, busy restaurant being objectified by a man who doesn’t realize who I am. A man I’m going to have to interact with in the future if I still want to become a pilot.
A man George cares about.
There’s a sudden pressure behind my eyes that I’m horrified to realize are tears.
It’s not even that this is the most stressful moment I’ve ever had when serving before. There was a time in the kitchen at Cornfield’s when my apron literally caught on fire and I had to roll on the ground to put it out. Technically, that was more stressful than this moment. And although I panicked and my heart raced then, I honestly would rather be on that grimy tile floor with a charred apron wrapped around my waist than here.
Because I think for the first time in my life, I start to truly understand what my mother felt like, having to go work in an office after what she went through with my father.
That thought makes me feel guilty because I know this is nowhere near as bad as she had it. This is the smallest of previews. I haven’t been tormented by someone I cared about. I haven’t been driven out of a workplace.
But right now I feel so alone, and desperate, and disgusting.
Because I have to keep smiling.
And I have to keep acting like this doesn’t matter. Like he can speak to me as if I’m an object, and I have to take it. I have to stand here and take it and smile.
And I have to thank him.
And I have to see him again.
“Well, look who it is!” Vernon’s stare finally travels up enough to take in my face. “George’s pretty redhead.”
I didn’t think I could feel any grosser, but wow, he managed it.
“Little Miss Beth,” he continues, proving he does know my name. “Haven’t seen you here before, and I’m a regular.” Vernon grins. “Always said Jimmy hires the best waitresses in town.”
I swallow down my toxic discomfort and manage a smile. “Happy to be part of the Beefies team. What can I get for you all tonight?”
“How about a plate full of you?” Vernon’s laughing friend props his elbow on the table to lean closer to me, and it takes everything in me not to back up a step. Not to hand in my notice and sprint into the night.
“I’ll take the mushroom burger, medium rare, side of fries,” the third in their party says, ignoring the creepy flirting attempts of his companions.
The laugher sighs and orders the rib eye.
Then I’m back to Vernon, who is still grinning. And instead of ordering, he keeps up with what I’m sure he considers top-notch banter.
“I’m curious, Miss Beth. As happy as I am seeing your gorgeous face at my favorite steak house, I wonder why you even bother working here?”
I fumble my pen, my nerve endings numb, as if my body is trying to shut down to protect itself from this man. “I…uh, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you have George wrapped around your pretty little finger, of course! Getting free flight lessons and all. I hope he’s not just checking your boxes because you’re checking his.” The man tuts like I’m a misbehaving girl and he has the right to chide me. I want to unzip my skin and crawl out of it. Not that he notices. “Does Georgeknow you’re working here? Bet if you told him, he’d give you an allowance or something.”
Like I’m a child who wants pocket money. Not a full-grown woman who has been dealing with debt since before I was a legal adult.
But sure, I should just go find myself a rich man.
