This was my favorite time of day—andnotjust because my shift was almost over. Actually, I know it’s kind of lame to admit, but I always get a little bummed when it’s time to clock out, because I love my job. Really!
Standing at the host’s table, I busily rolled flatware in cloth napkins. Making sure the host’s table was stocked for the evening shift was my last task of the day.
The door swung open, and an attractive couple walked in for a late lunch. They looked so happy and in love, holding hands and smiling, without a care in the world.
I greeted the couple and whisked them off to their tables.
Sure, I felt a small pang of envy, because I’d never known the joy of taking off work early, and having a boozy lunch with the love of your life. But at this point? I’d come to accept, more or less, that my life had certain advantages and disadvantages. And whining about the stupid small things I’d missed out on was really entitled.
When I told him I was working here, Dad was confused at first. He said it was “beneath me,” but I didn’t think that, nor did I care that I was making “shit money,” as he called it. It felt so good to be productive. And I loved my coworkers; I’d made so many new friends.
When I first started working here, I’ll admit, I was super nervous about the rest of the crew not accepting me because of my background. I didn’t use a fake name or try to hide who I was or anything like that, but I certainly didn’t shout my background from the rooftops, either.
But it took approximately two days before the kitchen’s most boisterous line cook, renowned for his ability to bust everyone’s balls, stopped me in the break room.
“Capuano, eh?” he asked, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes.
I nodded my head, staring at my lunch, hoping he’d take mercy on me and just move on.
But he didn’t. He stood there, watching me poke at my Caesar salad instead.
“Isn’t your dad that billionaire asshole? The guy that owns the casinos? Sal, right?”
“Yeah,” I murmured.
His eyes narrowed at me skeptically, judgmentally. “So … why the hell are you working in arestaurantwith the rest of us scrubs?”
My heart raced. I didn’t know what to say. So I just told him the truth.
“Because I wanted to work while I’m home for the summer. I’ve never had a job before, so I thought a restaurant was a good place to start.”
I was fearful he wouldn’t accept my reasoning, and worried he might get angry that I’d taken a job away from someone who actually needed it.
The cook’s bottom lip jutted out as he considered my words. “No shit? Huh. That’s cool, actually. Respect.” With a shrug, he smiled, and offered me a fist bump. “Welcome aboard, Ottavia.”
We bumped fists, and that was that! Ever since, everyone’s been nothing but amazing to me. When I’m at work, I feel like I’m just part of the crew. I feel like a normal girl.
Sure … I have approximately one year left before I graduate from college, and will have to marry Leo … at which point, as wife of the son of the potential President, I won’t be “allowed” to work in a restaurant anymore …
But if I think about it too much, I feel like my insides get all tight, and I can’t breathe. Life is easier when I’m not thinking about the future. I can’t do anything about the future anyway, so why stress about it?
Fornow,at least, all that matters is, my coworkers accept me as one of their own.
“Hey, Ottavia! Sorry I’m late!” Sienna, the first of the evening hostesses to arrive and one of my new work friends, joined me at the host’s table. “I couldn’t find parking.”
“No worries!” I said.
We made small talk while Sienna set up for her shift. Just when I was about to surrender the host’s table to her, the door opened.
“Hey, I got this, if you wanna take off,” Sienna said.
“Sure.”
But before I could leave, though, Sienna hooked her arm through mine and stopped me.
“Wait,” she whispered, pulling me closer. “Don’t be obvious. But look who just walked in.”
Casually, I turned around and glanced towards the front door.
