Resurrection

Chapter 1: Awakening

The shift had only just started and already the first of the disaffected drones came in. They looked over at the beer taps and sniffed at the wine menu; not so much gazing at it but keeping up the appearance that they could order wine. They barely made eye contact with me as they selected their option, adding the inevitable 'No... Wait' before they started the exhaustive process of mind changes. The shuffling of their hush puppies with the extra soft cushioning did little to discourage my strong sense of loathing and the nervous anxiety which went with absorbing their pretentious and decadent shift of patronage.

"Ah, the agony of choice", I offered up to the patron. They feigned a weak smile and started their selection. They still glared down their nose at me, though their brow was slightly raised. This one clearly wasn't used to any witticisms at this place. They made their choice of drinks, only to make it more complicated. They stood there soaking up all the beautiful castrated tension of their own nauseous behaviour; as they pushed back manicured hair to go with their metrosexual outfits. This particular customer was standing hunched over in a pastiche of designer labels: Ralph Lauren suit, Tommy Hilfiger glasses. An emo t-shirt peeked from under the gear, with an equally ill-fitting tie of bold purple to punctuate a Calvin Klein perfume that reeked. Its pungent fragrance was reminiscent of an Australian pest removal spray, although I believed this scared off as many women as it did mosquitoes.

The customer started. "Ah Yes, I'd like a Gin and Tonic, with a dash of lime and perhaps some Cranberry. Do you have J20?" They ask. ""I'm sorry Sir, but we don't. We do have Cranberry Juice though." I replied.

"Oh never mind."He balked at the suggestion, as though the sudden change in brands had upset the natural order of the cosmos. He added "Oh and a bitter shandy..." As I reached over to pour lemonade into the pint glass, I began to finalise payment when he offered up "...Oh and a decaf cappuccino..." There was a slight pause as they offered up one other suggestion. This was the way: they either thought you can't handle more than one drink at a time or they fired off a barrage of drink orders. It's been six days of shit and all I want to do is break off a shard of glass and jam it into this customer's neck. I fantasised ramming the shard through his jugular and have the blood spatter gush over his Ralph Lauren fashion condom. He gripped at his throat and cried out in agony but I continued with my attack, watching the pinstripes fade under a splash of crimson.

I started to churn the milk froth, letting the steam hit the crucial point just before the milk began to burn; a coffee cup was already half filled with decaffeinated grains as the next group of customers stumble into the pub; they stand with an air of authority as the waitress calmly asks if they have a booking. They don't care to check the place is bulging with other yuppies as they merely reply 'no', and assumed that they had a table waiting for them on a busy Friday night. The waitress patiently informed them that we are fully booked and they offered a constipated look of defiance before they are told they can order the same menu at the bar; they just won't get table service. The frustrated spouse shot the glance at the husband as they conceded the verdict and took a place in the bar area.

The froth bubbled steadily as I poured it over the coffee, spreading the chocolate powder over the flowing mass of decaf. It's the non alcoholic beer; a snake without the venom. The coffee I had earlier was beginning to kick in; giving me the rush I needed to get through this next round of service. An enthusiastic jumpstart to a shift was now just a refuelling of my adrenaline; as I contemplated the fate of my next customer. This person had decided they'd like to order some food.

"Yes... Hello I was thinking we could grab a Caesar salad...oh but with no anchovies" they ask.

"Okay", I replied.

"We'd also like the Greek Mezze but with no olives, oh and could I get a side order of Belgian Fries but with no mayonnaise, we'll also share a rib-eye steak, medium ...oh maybe well- done... "They blurted out.