Page 59 of Room Service

23

Jessi

I was in the middle of work, distracted as always. It was as if I was here in body but not in spirit.

The kitchen at the Myrtle Beach hotel had different rules than from where I came from. I’d got so used to my old job that I tended to do things on automatic when I wasn’t paying proper attention—which was rare in and of itself, because I took my job very seriously—but I was still stewing with myself over my decision as to whether to go back to Charlotte or stay in my current position.

I could stay…

But four days after I’d had the thought that I might not have made the best idea with the transfer, I realized I was still miserable. Even more so, because I’d come to know in the ensuing days that things could get worse. My new coworkers had upgraded from occasionally acting like assholes, to outright bullying, reminiscent of high school.

It was so fucking annoying. I’d get into work, go to my locker in the staff room, only to realize my uniform was missing. Then I had to track down a new one, sign on a bunch of forms, and when I finally got a new set, I went back to my locker only to find my old uniform there, dirty when I’d left it clean. While I wasn’t in uniform, I wouldn’t be allowed to work in the kitchens, so it was like I was slacking off at work.

There were other little things, like them snubbing me when a bunch of us were in the staffroom for meal breaks or tripping me up when I got near them. Thankfully, no one had tried it while we were in the kitchen, or I might have tripped into one of the many hot cooking stations and burned myself or been otherwise injured. They were immature, but they weren’t taking it too far.

But I’d gone through high school, and I knew if it didn’t stop soon, then at some point, someone might try it. There had been some sabotage here and there as well with people messing with my recipes, and I’d have to start all over instead of allowing anything less than my best be served up to the guests.

Honestly, the behavior was getting old quickly, but I was giving it a little time before I made a formal complaint, since I doubted arguing back would be of much help. Whether the manager would take action or not… well. That, I had no idea about, but I had to hope.

Although, there was another option.

I could always go back…

But there were pitfalls with that plan as well, ones that I wanted to avoid. Running into Trent being one of them.

Not that it was my biggest problem. If I wanted to go back to the hotel in Charlotte, I would have to apply for another transfer, and again, I would have to go to the manager to get that done. His attitude towards me meant he wouldn’t make it easy for me. He might outright refuse or he could delay it. Or pretend to agree to it at first, only for me to find out later that he was just pranking me.

Maybe that kind of thinking was a little overboard. I was turning this guy into a typical villain when he might not be that bad a guy. But that didn’t necessarily mean he would be on my side either. Because, whether or not I had good reasons, the transferring back and forth was an inconvenience for both sides because of the paperwork involved. And the last thing I wanted was to make a nuisance of myself, so that was another reason why I was hesitating.

With so much to think about, I was distracted and not noticing what I was doing. I’d worked that way a few times, so at first, it wasn’t a problem. Until I knocked into another worker there, who yelped and dropped the bowl they were holding. It was made of metal, and it dropped to the floor with a loud clang that caught everyone’s attention and made everything come to a halt.

I would have been fine had I been back home because I was so used to the kitchen there. Here, it was a bit smaller, more cramped, and organized in a way that seemed disorganized to me.

If I had been back in Charlotte, there would have been a moment of silence, then good-natured laughter and ribbing from everyone else, teasing me about what—or who—I was daydreaming over.

Here, though…

“Jessi!”

I winced at the loud yell of my name, even as expected as it was. Slowly, I turned to look at the chef who’d called me. It was the same chef who’d been giving me a hard time since I got here, I’d never actually met the head chef here, and I was starting to wonder if the man was just lazy, or if this guy was him.

“Yes, sir?” I said meekly, clasping my hands in front of me and keeping my head ducked down.

Before, he’d looked for whatever excuse to give me shit, and I couldn’t even blame him this time because it was my fault.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice especially loud in the silence.

I fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot as I twisted my fingers together, my stomach tying itself up in knots. It felt like my lips were glued together, and it took a moment to part them, only words escaped me.

“Um… I…”

“You were daydreaming in the middle of work,” he accused.

I couldn’t say no, so I just kept silent. I wanted a hole to open up in the ground and swallow me whole. I didn’t bother to check, but I knew the others were trying to hold in their snickers at my misfortune. I hadn't failed to notice how no one else got into as much trouble as I did.

“We’re here to work, Jessi,” he went on. “I don’t know what it is that you were doing at the main branch, but we’re serious people here. I don’t know if you wanted to come down here or if you were sent away, but either way, you can't come here and bring the rest of us down just because you can.”

I wanted to scoff when he said the ‘serious people’ part. But what followed had me holding back. I had neither wanted to come or was sent away, but I couldn’t even open my mouth to defend myself. A fine trembling started in my body, and I blinked as my eyes started to sting.