Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“I dunno…just do something with your hair or put on a little foundation. Make yourself look… nice,” she says with an air of someone who’s never had to worry about how they look.
Not even believing her own suggestion is possible.
And not in fifteen damned minutes.
“There are Pearl Room staff uniforms up there, so leave time to change as well, something that fits,” she calls over her shoulder, briskly turning on her heel and calmly striding to her next crisis.
Thankfully the days of bosses being able to tell you to lose weight or look prettier are done. But it’s not hard to feel the same meaning behind Denise’s words. And it’s not as if I haven’t tried.
Yo-yo pounds and squeezing into work uniforms is one thing. But I learned long ago that you don’t just make yourself ‘pretty.’
You either are, or you aren’t. And I know I’m definitely not.
The casino’s filled with plenty of people who are, though, and most staff here are no exception.
Managers, supervisors, hostesses, and floor staff were all hired for their looks and impeccable standards.
It’s a business to take people’s money. Why not be nice about it and have smiling, perfect-looking people?
I got hired as the bubbly, short, and thick-set, token ‘regular’ looking employee, making folks who play the slots for fun feel less intimidated by the opulent casino interiors.
The Pearl Room, though?
That’s a whole other world, and one I’ve only seen the room on the in-house ads the casino runs twenty-four-seven, flickering on every screen that doesn’t have a paying face in front of it.
And after a quick bite to eat at the staff cafeteria, I’m getting my first Pearl Room experience.
Starting with the uniform, then the supervisor, Chad.
It’s a tight squeeze for the uniform, and I have to use a male-size waistcoat to go over the shirt, but I think I'll pull it off.
Barely.
But the squeeze I get from my boss for the next few hours is tighter.
Chad doesn’t seem so happy to see me, and clicking his tongue quietly before forcing a plastic smile I’m given my directions for the shift.
“We’ve got three guests so far. But I just need you to prepare drinks and snacks as needed. I was hoping for a third hostess,” he murmurs to himself.
“I can do that,” I pipe in, eager to show how much of a people person I really am.
But he only shakes his head, almost looking pained by the idea of me anywhere near his guests.
“I don’t think so,” he says dryly. “We’re trying to make our guests feel…spoiled. Special,” he replies. “Plus, we’d never get you in one of those gowns,” he says as an obvious afterthought.
“And remember,” he says with an icy cold hardness I feel in my belly.
“Do not talk to or engage with the guests. Leave that to us,” he cautions me, looking me up and down in a way that doesn’t leave me doubting what I know he’s thinking.
“Wh…What else do you want me to do?” I ask, feeling he might have skipped something.
Readying drinks and snacks for up to three people isn’t gonna while away the hours. And if I’m so useless, then why the hell do they want me up here in the first place?
But it’s a stupid question to ask, and he lets me know it.
“Just stay out of sight unless you’re preparing food or drink for a hostess,” he snaps.
There are company rules about the minimum staff required for each shift, so I guess that’s the only reason I’m here for a few hours.
With a long, deep breath, he composes himself before returning to his guests, each one at a private table with their own dealer and Pearl Room hostess at their side.
He’s left me feeling worse than before I even started. And still not knowing exactly what it is I’m supposed to do.
From where I’m standing, looking out to the huge open space of the Pearl Room, I can make out the first two guests.
The usual-looking businessman types, stacks of casino chips glittering like slabs of jewels on their private gaming tables. Each chip was made especially for the Pearl Room.
All of it more money than I’ve ever imagined, let alone seen on a gambling table.
And they’re playing with it like it means nothing.
But if all I have to do is pour some drinks and wash up, out of sight, then anything else is none of my business.
I feel a little easier as I set to work making the already immaculate bar area shine just that much brighter before the first drink order comes in for me.
“Club soda, suite three,” the very bored but incredible-looking blond hostess, Magenta, drawls as I feel my mouth getting dry. My hands begin to tremble.
I get it now.
Girls like her are the same as the décor. Perfect. Stunning.
And the supervisor is right.