Boss

1.

Spending 4 years at University to end up waiting tables at some snobby restaurant in Kensington was not how I envisioned my life. I, Veronica Townsley thought I'd be working my way up to a manager in a marketing firm or at least be a very highly regarded consultant by now. Instead my life has not quite turned out like I planned.

I paused for a second outside the kitchen, to rub the nipping pain away from the heel of my foot. In black pumps, the thin black tights were doing nothing to stop the constant rubbing that came from being on my feet all afternoon and evening.

"Veronica, I don't pay you to stand about doing nothing. Table 5 are waiting on drinks, go and take an order"

Of course Mario, the most stuck up person I'd ever worked for, had to come round the corner at that exact moment I'd stopped.

"I've taken the order, Damien is making them just now..." My voice trailed off as Mario waved a dismissive hand, turned on his fake Gucci loafers and flounced back in to the restaurant. I heaved a deep sigh and winced as I pushed my foot back in to my shoe. I pushed my way through the double swinging doors in to the bright kitchen to pick up the dessert of table 3 and then head back to the bar for the drinks for table 5.

My body was growing weary, I'd been on my feet since the lunchtime rush started at 12:30. And other than a half hour break I hadn't stopped and it was now past 11pm. I was done in. But I had two tables left, once they had paid their bill, I was free to get out of here. For once I hadn't been put on clean up. I was allowed to finish once my last table had left, instead of waiting till all tables had left then readying the restaurant for the next day which could sometimes take close to an hour.

I painted a smile on as I handed the desserts off to their consumers and delivered the drinks to table 5. Despite being in this job for 18 months I still hated it. It worked my butt off in university to get a bloody good degree in Marketing & Communications to be passed up for every damn job I interviewed for. Time and time again I was over-looked for someone with more experience. So because I'd yet to get my first job in my chosen field I was shut out, passed over for people who already had the same bloody job. I'd taken on an almost full time role at the restaurant I'd worked at all through University. After working here for almost 5 years you'd think I was a highly regarded member of staff, wouldn't you? You'd be wrong. My manager, Mario, treated me like I was still the useless new girl who didn't know her Carpaccio from her Gazpacho. Side note: I did. Both were equally disgusting.

I don't know why tonight was any different from every other night I worked in this restaurant but I had almost had it with the place. I don't know if it was the constant nip from the cheap Primark pumps I was wearing or the fact after 5 years, my boss still spoke to me like I was incompetent despite the rave reviews I got from the customers. But I was slowly close to losing.

I hovered about the Maitre-de stand while I watched my last table slowly finish their desserts. I rolled my eyes but stood up a little straighter so that I couldn't be accused of slouching because everyone knows no one likes a sloucher, and there are plenty more girls out on the street desperate for a job like this who know how to stand up straight or some other kind of nonsense that Mario usually spouts to make me feel 2ft tall.

I watched him approach from his office in the back, his nose was stuck in a menu as if he might find the answer to his receding hairline in there. He wouldn't but it did give him an excuse not to look me in the eye as he told me "You'll need to stay for clean up tonight"

"Sorry?" I blinked in surprise.

"Jessica can't stay. I need three people to do it. You'll need to" He couldn't even be bothered to look up from the stupid menu as he dealt the blow. What was he even looking at anyway. The menu had been the same for the last 6 months.