Personal Yummy #68
She’s been a waitress here at The Grill for almost five years now, and I’ve worked with her for the past two. Tomorrow, however, she says goodbye to this station and enters the big leagues—as a bartender.
And it’s about time.
At least I know she thinks so.
She certainly has all the skill, knowledge, and personality necessary for it, and the fact that she’s a woman isn’t going to be held against her any longer. Now that Adam is marrying Tanya and leaving for Colorado, she’s finally being given her long-overdue chance.
I know she’ll be a wonderful bartender. How could she not? I mean, if she bartends like she waitresses, she’ll be going home with overflowing pockets each and every night.
I can just see it.
There’ll be the Monday Night Football games, and she’ll be standing behind the packed bar, cheering, rooting, clapping, laughing, and yahooing for the Steelers as if she were one of the guys, her eyes bright and active, fitting in perfectly. There’ll be the calmer Wednesday nights, with only two or three people at the bar, and she’ll be chatting and commiserating with a lost soul. There’ll be the chaotic Friday and Saturday nights when there’s no time to talk to anyone, but she’ll be adept at making drinks quickly and correctly and will always stay in control.
And then there’ll be the pride—that pride of hers—oozing out even more than it already does.
In her defense, being a bartender is, I have to say—in practical and monetary terms at least—quite a step up from being a waitress. First of all, she won’t have to run around like she’s on speed anymore… Well, not as high a dose. Secondly, she will certainly be paid much more an hour, probably more than twice as much as we waitresses and waiters get paid, and will often make as much serving a person a few drinks as she used to make waiting on a table of four. Plus, most of the regulars who sit around the bar know her well and like her, so that obviously won’t hurt. And neither will her looks.
On top of all that, she’ll possess the increased authority that comes with the job. In fact, she’ll be in charge of telling the “early person out” when he or she can leave—depending on how busy we are—something that she used to be told to do. She’ll have the power to give the “almighty last call.” And she’ll be the person who does the credit card report, who takes stock of the liquor, who closes the place. That’s right—the one who turns out the lights.
So watch out, everyone. Here comes Bianca…Bianca times two.
Are you ready?
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The above excerpt is from my coming-of-age novel—The Grill on Murray Avenue: A Story of Innocence—about the inhabitants of an unassuming bar-and-grill in Squirrel Hill, a vibrant neighborhood in the east end of Pittsburgh. The story is told by Jenna, a young waitress who dreams of becoming a professional dancer.
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