I watched as people came and went, a blur of different faces as people ordered their drinks then disappeared. It was an unending line of people, but luckily it paid well. The uniform scratched me uncomfortably, the visor was bright yellow and gross, and the stupid shirt was way too small, but it was a job. I worked at some type of twisted coffee shop, where most of the employees were scantily-clad females and most of the customers were older men. It was on a poorer side of town and if people didn't know about the coffee shop, they most likely never would.
It was the first floor of a housing complex with a bland sign out front. The interior was plain and most people didn't linger, unless they were busy checking people out. When I applied, the owner's eyes sparkled when she saw me and without hesitation hired me. I told Ares I had gotten a job, but I didn't specify where I worked. He was confused, but he didn't question me further. I didn't have the confidence to tell him that I was practically putting my body on display for men to look at and pay.
There were two sections of a long bar, one where the drinks were made and given to the customer and the other was where the customer paid. In the area that the customer paid, there were separate mason jars for each employee for tip money. And somehow, I managed to get a lot more tips then the other works. I was envied, but I took no pleasure in it. How could I take pleasure in this? I had quit school, in fear of encountering my mother, and I worked at some shitty bar that attracted old men. My uniform consisted of a crop top and short shorts, that reached just below my crotch. It managed to cover my butt, but I couldn't bend over without my entire lower region on show.
I hated doing this and my self-confidence plummeted after the first day when my manager had told me that all I was good at was looking pretty, after I split the first drink I made and messed up a few names. I sucked it up though and didn't tell them I cried myself to sleep that night. After that day, things became a routine. Forty hours a week, all throughout the weekdays and then I was free on the weekends. I made sure never to come down to this area on my break, in fear of messing things up or distracting someone.
After all, the only thing I was good at was looking pretty.
