Page 4 of Nick & Nora Martinis

I start to laugh. “Oh my, Mary, these are the best by far, but I don't think we will be putting all of them into practice any time soon. But yes, take a name and number, that's a great idea.”

Mary looks straight at me. “Why? It worked in the last bar I was at.”

“Really, not serving them a drink and being so abrasive,” I state. But then I start to wonder, if handled properly it could actually work.

“Yeah, you have to stand your ground with them. You need nerves of steel at first, but it works, if you all persevere with it,” Mary counters.

“That's very impressive Mary.” I stand from the bar stool and pick up the glass with the 'Take your Time' inside. Come on back over to the table I tell her, and she walks back around the bar and takes a seat opposite me. I push the glass towards her. “Here you are, you can have that.”

Mary looks at me for a minute. “Um, I don't drink. Well I do but alcohol-free. Got drunk too many times when I was younger, and had bad experiences,” she tells me, shrugging her shoulders.

I don't know if she thinks this is another test. “Younger, you're not that old,” I say out loud. I look back at her application form. She is just twenty-one. “That's okay, you don't have to drink it, it’s just that if I drink them all I won't know what day of the week it is.” I start to laugh and so does Mary.

I conclude the interview by telling her that I'll be in touch within the next day or so. She stands up, thanks me for my time and walks out. I pick up her form, read over it and mark it as a yes, also writing on the top 'doesn’t drink', which I think will be good. Just as I pick up the drink to move it a male enters the bar, I'm hoping that he is my next applicant.

Looking at him he's very easy on the eye, nice candy for the ladies, I think to myself. Standing at about six feet with his hair slicked back, wearing ripped stonewashed jeans and a white t-shirt he looks like a model, not a barman - now to find out if he is here for the job. I stand up and make my way over towards the door.

“Hiya, can I help you?”

“Hello yes, I'm looking for Abigail.”

“Well, you've found her,” I say with a smile.

He puts his hand forward for me to shake, “I'm Owen Walker, I have an interview with you.”

“Hello Owen, nice to meet you,” I say as I take his hand. His hazel eyes with a fleck of gold stare into mine, I feel like he is looking straight into my soul. I pull my hand away, a little too quickly. I turn and point to the table where I sat with Mary..

“I, I, umm, if you'd like to take a seat we can get started.” What the hell is wrong with me? I can feel my face going red. I pull myself together as I walk over to the table, shaking my head as I take a seat opposite him and compose myself.

“Ab, Abs!” I hear Jayne call, as she comes bouncing through the door, wearing just her strappy top and short pj's which leave very little to the imagination.

“Oh shit, sorry, I forgot about the interviews, sorry, I'll just grab my phone,” she says whispering, as she creeps about looking for said item. “Sorry, don't mind me, carry on,” she says, waving her hand and arm about in the air.

I start to giggle, knowing full well she didn’t leave her phone down here. But I do wonder what she wanted. Note to self: ask her later. She goes behind the bar, “There you are,” she says, holding the bar phone up. I shake my head at her as she starts to walk back towards the door.

As I'm looking at my notes I try to remember what I'm supposed to be asking, when I hear from across the table:

“Would you like to join us? It could be fun.”

My head shoots up, looking at him then her, in disbelief that he would even ask the question. And the flirty way he is looking at Jayne with puppy dog eyes? “Do all your staff come dressed like that?” looking back at me.

“No, no they don't,” I say, a little too abruptly.

Jayne looks at us both with a confused look on her face. “No tar, as you were.” With that she carries on through the door.

I turn back to look at Owen.

“So when do I start? Do you have any objections to me just wearing shorts,

and can we date?”

He catches me off guard and I squint my eyes at him, my brow creased. He can't be serious, can he? I try to judge if he is. Looking away, I glance at the paper in front of me one more time, then back at him.

“Mr Walker.”

He interrupts me. “It's Owen, please. Mr Walker is my father.”

“Okay Owen,” I say a little bit too harshly. “First off, I would never date a coworker or an employee and secondly, what makes you think you have the job, and thirdly I have a dress code. I mean I'm all for confidence but sometimes that can come off as arrogant, which is not a good look.”

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