Charlotte Hart is a young, inexperienced individual when it comes to Jacob's lavish lifestyle. She was scouted to work for him, leaving behind some of her favorite people at a service job she acquired through college. The new field of work proves to...
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I've always wondered what it's like to not worry about each swipe of my credit card, how much emergency cash I have left, or accidentally dropping a quarter down a storm drain. Yes, even change is of value to me. It truly adds up. I have a jug of coins I've collected from various serving jobs I've had, waiting for the day I can cash it in and roll in it all. However, that day won't be anytime soon.
"Charlotte, your regulars were just sat." My shift manager spoke into my ear piece, breaking me out of the money spiral I was just in.
"Heard." I confirmed into my mic as I quickly scanned over my appearance in our server station mirror. My hair was braided on both sides into a claw clip, securing there would be no stray pieces prone to falling out. My black dress shirt suffered no wrinkles, stains or debris as well as the skirt that was so kindly tailored to fit me by the country club.
I work in the fine dining bistro at our extremely overpriced country club. We have won many awards for our food, cocktails, and atmosphere and saying there's pressure to keep that title is an understatement. Everything must be perfect down to the millimeter of my unpolished nails. I come home each night to ice my feet and throw a heating pad on my shoulders from how tense they get while holding a perfect posture.
Don't get it twisted though. Most people who work here are anything but polished. It's all a facade.
It's a Friday night which means I have a twenty top waiting for me as soon as our doors open. They have been coming in for a couple months now. There's a standing reservation each Friday at 6pm. Table 111 is always booked by a young man and his business partners and they usually stay until close, racking up a rather hefty tab. I can only imagine what it feels like to happily pick up the tab each week. It's always the same mysterious gentleman who made the reservation, Jacob Elordi.
"Good evening, gentlemen. How are you all doing this lovely Friday night?" I greeted the twenty businessmen sitting in full suits. There's usually a handful that smile back, a couple who answer me, but there's always one who seems to treat me somewhat like a human being.
"Charlotte, it is always a pleasure to end our week with you," He smiled a gapped tooth grin. "It has been quite the week, right gentleman?"
His comment is met with a chorus of half laughing sighs in agreement.
"Well what can I do to make it better? What can I get started for you all?" I politely asked, knowing it would be the usual start with ten rye old fashions, six gimlets, and three vodka martinis with extra olives. Mr. Elordi is always a wild card with his order, though.
"They will have their usuals..." He trails off. "And I will have your drink of choice."
I can't help but smile through gritted teeth. As a server, the worst thing you can do is ask for a surprise for a drink. I have had too many instances where middle aged guests don't have the same palette as a twenty two year old woman and I don't blame them. I live off of the sale section of Kroger and middle shelf alcohol. I'll never miss the five dollar sushi days there. I might not have the budget for middle shelf, but I have more respect for myself than to get drunk out of a plastic bottle— at least now I do.
