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My face heats to a thousand degrees as I stand there, rooted in place. Did that just happen to me? Did this complete stranger just tell me that I’m stupid, and that everything I touch turns to garbage? It’s absolutely wrong, and incredibly rude. I mean, yes, I’m a waitress, but that doesn’t mean that I’m dog poo. I’m not paid enough to take this kind of abuse.
Besides, how could she say that to me? One small mistake doesn’t mean that I’m retarded or hopeless. It doesn’t mean that I’m less of a human than she is, or that I’m second class. Unfortunately, it’s clear that the customer doesn’t see it that way at all. She’s got a diamond ring on her finger so shiny that it resembles a disco ball, and her blonde hair is the kind that screams money. The complicated mass of highlights and lowlights must have cost hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars at a hair salon.
But I can’t back down because that would be letting the one percent win. I can’t let someone treat me like this, even if I’m on the job. I’ve already been beaten down today by Jimmy, and I’m not going to let this woman add to the shit pile.
“Ma’am,” I say in a slow, calm voice. “This salad is completely fine. I assure you, our chefs Bert and Mamie are the best in town. They’ve been on the job for decades, and both have made hundreds, if not thousands, of chef’s salads over the years. The dressing part is totally on me, and I acknowledge that,” I say. “But I promise, this chef’s salad is fine. More than fine. It’s tasty and delectable.”
With those words, the woman jerks her head back towards me and glares with so much venom in her eyes that I’m taken aback. It’s just a salad for crying out loud! Why is she filled with such hatred? It must be something else. There’s no way that anything I did deserves such vitriol.
“Get me the manager,” she spits, wrapping her pink cashmere shawl even tighter around her skinny body. The blonde is so thin that she looks like a skeleton in a rose-colored shroud. “I need to talk with someone with two brain cells to rub together.”
My cheeks flush, and I’m unable to move for a moment at this new insult. But fine. Clearly, this woman can’t be reasoned with and it’s better to pass her off to someone else. I turn to find Jimmy, but my manager’s already on it. He’s been watching me this entire time, and seeing the unhappy look on her face, is now approaching us with slow, lumbering steps.
“Ma’am,” he pants obsequiously, huffing and puffing as he comes up to the booth. “Is there something wrong? I can see that you’re not happy with your meal here. We at the Second Star Diner take the utmost pride in our staff and food, and if either one of those isn’t up to your standards,” he says, turning on me with a nasty gleam in his eye, “I’ll be sure to take up the issue with upper management.”
The woman shoots him a glare, and then turns to me with blue eyes so cold they could freeze ice.
“It’s her,” she says in a nasty voice. “It’s all her.”
Jimmy doesn’t slip a beat.
“Gemma?” he says. “I know, we’ve had problems with her in the past. I’ll be sure to resolve it, you can count on that. Billie, could you get this customer another salad please?” he calls out to a waitress in the next area.
But the blonde woman won’t let it drop.
“It’s herrrr,” she hisses, still looking at me with daggers. “She’s a dumb bitch who can’t get anything right. I mean, look at her,” she scoffs. “Her uniform is super slutty, and she’s overweight too. How can you let someone fat wear such skimpy clothes? It’s fucking disgusting. I wouldn’t eat anything she touches.”
I gasp, absolutely mortified. How can this woman say these things about me? She doesn’t even know me! I mean, yes, my skirt is a little shorter than the other waitresses wear theirs, but it’s only because I’m desperate for tips. If a short hem gets me ten or twenty bucks more each shift, then I’m grateful for the money even if I have to show a little leg.
Plus, I’m not fat. I’m curvy, yes, and maybe a little on the plump side, but there’s no way that I’m some disgusting Jabba the Hut who’s leaking all over the place. I have big boobs and a giant ass, but still, what happened to female solidarity? What happened to body positivity? Nowadays, women are taught to embrace their fuller forms, but I guess this skinny bitch hasn’t gotten the memo.
Unfortunately, I’m not very good with comebacks and my mouth opens without anything coherent coming out.
