Page 8 of Dirty Ex-Mas
“This looks like a bunch of busy work, and I’ll bet you could better spend your time elsewhere. How about you train me right now to work at the bar?”
“No way.”
“Not as a bartender or anything. I’m talking behind the bar, like what you’re doing now, the little stuff that doesn’t require much talent. Or let me bus tables, sweep the floors, clean the bathrooms. Come on, D. There’s got to be something I can do.”
“What if we don’t work well together, huh? What happens to the friendship?”
“What are you talking about? We work fine together.”
“I would be your boss, Quinn. You would have to listen to me.”
“I can do that.”
“And obey. Like a dog.” She smiles.
I put my hands up like paws and pant with my tongue hanging out, always willing to show that I’m a team player.
“Okay, come on back here and I’ll show you how to run the glass dishwasher.”
“Is it different from a regular dishwasher?”
“Not by much.”
“Great!”
She shows me that along with a few other things and then we head back to the bar so I can fill out the employment paperwork. I’m giddy with excitement over finally having a job which is clear to Daria.
“You understand this is the shit job, right? The one that no one wants?”
“That’s fine.”
“Okay.”
“So, if one of the girls call in sick, can I cover for them as a bartender?”
“Probably not.”
“What about as a waitress?”
“Definitely not.”
“Hired killer?”
“Please stop talking.”
“Well, I need some incentive to work hard. You know, like knowing there’s potential for growth and promotion.”
“Working hard for the sake of working hard isn’t incentive enough?”
“No. This is America, land of reward and external motivation. We need to know we’re getting something out of it.” I wink at her.
She laughs in response. “How about a paycheck?”
“That’s not enough. How about a cute uniform?”
“You can wear jeans and a tank top like everyone else.”
“Fine, you talked me into it.”
