Carmen loathed the way the workers here were being treated.
She looked over at the junior chef, who stood, head down, listening to the manager’s tirade. She knew the chef wanted to leap to her defence, but he had a family to support.
She looked at another waitress, Joni, who she knew was trying so hard to stay on the straight and narrow and keep a regular job.
It wasn’t just Carmen’s fiery nature that was returning, but a deep hatred for injustice that was starting to emerge.
‘Do you know why you can’t keep staff for more than five minutes?’
Carmen hadn’t got where she was in the equestrian world by staying quiet—there she was able to speak her mind, and she would do the same here. She could not keep her silence.
‘Because you’re a disgrace!’ Her lips curled in contempt. ‘You berate and you bully!’ She spoke for everyone here, because she was the only one who could afford to. ‘You take wages and you steal tips!’
‘Now, you listen to me—’
‘No! I will not!’ Carmen shook her head. ‘You’re going to listen tome. I would never speak to my staff the way you do—and I make sure my staff are properly paid. You’ve held back thousands of dollars in tips in just the week I’ve been here.’
She told him the amount exactly, and watched the manager’s nervous blink.
‘How many staff are working tonight?’ she demanded.
Nobody responded.
‘Very well...’ Carmen did the maths herself. ‘I think that works out to about one hundred and ten dollars each are owed. Including the staff who are absent tonight.’
‘Get out!’ he told her.
‘You don’t know who you are dealing with. I’m not going anywhere until all these staff are paid. Failing that, I’ll be reporting you...’
Carmen’s tirade built up steam as she listed the authorities she’d be contacting, and then repeated it to the owner of the venue, who had been alerted to the commotion and had come to see what the problem was.
Carmen named the law firm her family used for their professional dealings in LA—the same firm that had swiftly sorted out her temporary work visa.
‘I can call them now and get the police to come too...report you for breaking labour laws...’ She took out her phone and quickly pulled up her contact at the law firm, to show she meant business. ‘Up to you?’ Carmen warned.
And finally they conceded.
Carmen stood, arms folded, until all the correct tips were dispersed.
‘Take your job...’ now she pulled off her apron and tossed it onto the floor ‘...and your stinking attitude, and shove them. And if I hear there are any repercussions, or that this practice continues, I shall be making several calls. I’ve got my eye on you.’
Joni was in tears as she followed Carmen out of the back entrance. ‘You’ve no idea how much this means...’
Carmen was starting to. Even though she had grown up a long way from this kind of situation.
‘Call me if this nonsense starts again. I’ll make sure they won’t find out it’s you,’ she said, and she hugged Joni.
As she stepped out into the night Carmen felt sad rather than proud. She had wanted to make her own way not only as a matter of pride, but because she had wanted to prove to herself that she could do it.
She’d thought coming to LA would give her a new sense of purpose, fix her somehow, or at least make her feel better. Instead, she felt lonelier than ever, and even more lost than the night she’d boarded the plane.
There had been more than a kernel of truth in the manager’s words, Carmen reluctantly acknowledged. She was a truly dreadful waitress.
She crossed the strip and took a long look back at the hotel where she’d hoped to somehow prove herself, find herself...but then she did a double take when she saw him.
Him.
He was outside the main entrance of the hotel, where people were milling about and talking. He had stepped aside, away from the bright forecourt lights, and he cut a solitary figure, leaning against the wall, looking out at nothing.