King of the Don's

one

Briar James-Four months ago

It was obnoxiously busy at work.

First, I was one of four waitresses who actually showed up on a Friday night, and I had an old lady who would not stop asking questions about Tilapia, which in turn, was making me neglect my several other tables.

It was once she started her sixth question that I started to get flustered, "Okay, but is the Tilapia sourced locally, or has it been sitting in a truck and rotting away for several days?" She lifted a thin, white eyebrow and I swallowed, trying to hold my irritation at bay. I had already answered several other questions about this stupid fish, and now it was making me ignore my other duties, which extended to the new table that had been sat in my section ten minutes ago.

"It's sourced locally every day." I confirmed, and she started to ask another question, but I stopped her before she could finish, "How about I go and get my manager, and he can answer these questions for you?" I asked the lady, and she smiled while tapping my hand, "Yes, I think speaking to someone actually educated would be for the best." She snarked, and I gave her a fake smile, and turned back around toward the kitchen to get my manager, all while thinking of ways I wanted to wipe the smug look off that karen's face.

Once I alerted my manager of the unbearable old woman, I made my way over to my other tables to check on them, and then finally approached my newly seated table. Sitting there were four men in what looked like business suits, speaking lowly about something I couldn't bother trying listening to. Once I greeted the table, a largely overweight man gave me a once over, "Are you our server?" He sneered, and I faked a smile for the hundredth time that night, "I am sir, and I apologize for the wait. I got caught up-"

He held up his finger to silence me, and then started speaking, "I did not ask what took you so long, I was asking if you are our server, who has yet to service us for over twenty minutes." He began, and I wanted to tell him it hadn't been twenty minutes, and he needed to learn patience, but I refrained. I needed this job, and pissing off patrons was not a good way of keeping it, "I am your server." I told him through a falling smile, and he smirked, "Oh, we'll have fun with you, pretty girl." He told me, making the other men around him laugh, and I wanted to physically gag, but I refrained once again.

I brought out the men's drinks, and took their orderers, all of which had to be repeated three times each because the other men were being loud. When I was about to turn away, I heard the first man speak up again, "Why don't you be a doll and fetch us men some more drinks, and stay around the table, not too close, but give us something pretty to look at." He winked, and I turned back around without even replying.

Two more years. Two more years, and I can graduate and not have to look at creeps like this again.

But it was once I was finally almost done serving the most entitled man in all of the Boston area, that he dropped a fork on the floor, and told me "Oh I'm sorry honey, why don't you go down there and pick it up."

He gave me a goofy grin, showing off his overly whitened teeth. I took a deep breath and bent at the waist to pick up his fork, but it was when I felt a firm smack on my ass that I realized exactly why I was told to bend over. Humiliation burned my skin, and I shot back up to a standing position while a lump formed in my throat. 

While I did feel the sudden urge to cry, I tried my best not to. I was completely done with this night, but once I heard his associates laugh at me, something unfamiliar took over, and I glared at the overweight man, "If you ever touch me again, I'll stab you with something much larger than a fork, you small dick imbecile." I enunciated each word like I was speaking to a toddler.