I wanted to strangle Keith. It was bad enough he'd hired Brittney in the first place. But to assign me as her trainer? It was sheer stupidity.
I should've shrugged it off. But this time, there was more to it. A lot more. He was goading me, plain and simple. It was just one more thing to drive me out. Just like his constant nitpicking.
Keith's game wasn't exactly subtle. I'd seen it before. That weasel wasn't going to fire me. He was going to make me quit, the same way he'd gotten rid of my favorite cook.
Now, I was stuck training Brittney. I wanted to blow it off, but I couldn’t afford to. If she gave bad service, it would hurt me a lot more than it hurt her, at least while she was under my guidance.
We were sitting at a tiny table in the back room. I'd been reviewing the job duties, along with the basic customer service procedures.
"Listen," I said. "I'm telling you, you can't be mean to people. That's not what this job is about."
"Sure it is," she said. "I've eaten here. Lots of times." She shrugged. "You come up, you say something funny, and then deliver the food. What's so hard about that?"
I gave her a look. "Have you ever even waitressed before?"
"Oh please." She raised her eyebrows. "Do Ilooklike a waitress?"
I gave her appearance the once-over. Somehow, she'd missed the mark entirely. The look was supposed to be retro, with big hair, bright lipstick, and dark eye-shadow.
Somehow, Brittney had gotten it all wrong. Her long blonde hair was too sleek, her lips too pink, and her eye shadow far too subtle.
And then, there were her clothes. She'd opted for spiked high-heels instead of the low-slung saddle-shoes the rest of us girls wore. On her tight white blouse, she'd skipped the top two buttons, opting to show an amount of cleavage that was borderline obscene, even by the diner's dubious standards.
"Well?" Brittney gave yet another toss of her hair. "Do I?"
I shook my head. "Definitely not."
She grinned. "Got that right."
"You look like some bit player in a porno."
Her eyes narrowed. "Bitplayer?"
"What? You wanna star in it?"
"Well, I sure as hell wouldn't be a bit player." Her lips curled. "I've got standards."
"Yeah?" I said. "Is that why you're doing Keith?"
A hint of color rose to her cheeks. But then she leaned forward and lowered her voice. "He's not the only one I did."
I felt my own cheeks grow warm. I knew exactly who she was referring to. Lawton. "Yeah, but you're ancient history," I said, looking down to sift through the training procedures.
For the next half hour, we reviewed every step in the waitressing guidebook, from greeting the customer to delivering their bill. Through the whole process, it was pretty obvious that Brittney was only half-listening.
She studied her nails, touched up her makeup, and at one point, even pulled out her cell phone to tap out a series of texts to who-knows-who.
At last, something got her attention, the tip-splitting arrangement while she was in training. Hearing the details, her eyes snapped to attention. "But that's not fair!" she said.
I shrugged. In truth, I'd felt the same way when I'd been in training. But now that I'd been working here a few years, I had a totally different perspective.
"Look," I explained, "it's just the way it works. You. You're in training. So you're getting a regular wage, just like the cooks. Me, I'mnotin training, so I'm getting the waitressing rate, which as we all know, is a lot lower."
She pouted. "But Keith said I'd be getting tips too."
"Yeah," I said. "And you will. Once you're out on your own. But until then, your trainer, whoever that is, gets the tips. It's just the way it works."
She gave me a dirty look. "What a total crock."
