Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
“Ah, I see.” I nod, not wanting to take this conversation any further. Thankfully, the bell at the door dings, and I see my first set of customers step in and take a seat over at the second booth by the window.
“There you go.” Delilah points. “If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be in the back.”
I nod and watch her go. It’s only two customers. I should be able to handle them without a problem, and the last thing I want to do on my first day is rely on my boss for basic things that I should be able to know how to do.
I’m a bit distracted as I take their orders, thinking about Lyle and the insane coincidence that I end up working for his girlfriend, but I manage to get through it without issue, and get their plates from the kitchen to their table without dropping them or spilling them or mixing them up when I get back. They don’t tip well, but I figure it’s my first table in a new town, so I don’t let it get to me.
Things go well all morning, staying at a pretty decent pace that I can keep up with fairly well. But then lunch hits, and all hell breaks loose. Every booth in the house fills up with truckers coming through town and the high top as well. I’m racing around doing my best to fill orders and not get cussed out by the kitchen staff for leaving food waiting too long out back.
Delilah is no help, sitting in her office making phone calls the entire time while I handle what should be a three-person job on my own. I even motion to her once when I feel like I’m drowning, and she just waves me away like she’s fanning at a fly.
Somehow, and I’m not sure how, I manage to make it through lunch and earn a decent amount of tips. I try not to glare at Delilah, reclining back in her chair, as I pass her office with arms filled with dirty dishes on the way to the kitchen.
How can Lyle date this woman? I wonder. He’s so kind and caring, such a gentleman. And she’s like this psychotic, fire-breathing dragon who seems to only care about herself. It just doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe she has dirt on him and is blackmailing him to stay with her. That’s the only thing I can think of as to why those two are together.
Later in the afternoon, she comes out of her office and refills the napkin holders before telling me she’s leaving for a bit.
“I have some things to do – errands to run. I’ll be back later. You’ll be okay on your own?”
I want to tell her that I have been so far. That she hasn’t helped me at all one bit and that this is a three- to four-person job being done by one girl and her question is a complete insult, but I also want to keep my job. So I answer diplomatically.
“Yeah, I’ll be all right,” I say with a smile.
She smiles right back. “I thought you would be. See ya later.”
And then she’s out the door.
Yeah, how are you dating her, Lyle?
Delilah is gone until ten minutes before closing time, at which point I’m the only one left. Andy and Max have left, having cleaned up the kitchen, and Nate bailed around 4:30, guaranteeing me that we’d have no more customers before five.
“I promise you,” he told me. “No one ever comes in after 4:30.”
“Just you left?” Delilah asks as she comes back with bags that are obviously from shopping and not errands like she had said before.
“Just me,” I reply.
“You can go.”
“You sure?” I ask, acting like the model employee. Truth be told, I’m ready to get the hell out of here.
“Sure. I’ll close up,” she replies. “We never get anyone after 4:30. But I won’t be paying you for the half hour. Okay?”
I shrug. “That’s fine.” I’m already slipping out of my apron and into my sweatshirt. I could really care less about the extra half hour in wages. I made enough today in tips from the lunch rush that it really doesn’t matter, and if Delilah wants to be that stingy with me, then that’s on her.
I slip out the door into the cool autumn breeze and start the walk home. My new boss hasn’t even asked me why I’m walking, why I don’t have a car, or where I’m living. That’s something I’d expect from a boss in New York City, but not here. Maybe my expectations for Tangerine Forks, New Hampshire were completely misguided.
Thankfully, I manage to get back before Delilah, but Lyle’s car is already in the driveway. He spots me as I’m coming up the driveway and comes out from inside. I practically scream at him as he walks over to me.