Pete nods, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. “Ah, Doris. She’s quite the legend around here. We owe her a great deal for her support and patronage.” I smile, feeling a surge of gratitude for my grandmother’s influence.
“Yes, Doris has been a pillar of this community,” Alison adds.
“I’m a quick learner, adaptable, and have excellent customer service skills.”
Alison interjects, her smile growing wider. “That’s wonderful to hear, Lani. We value teamwork and a positive attitude here. How would you handle a challenging customer or a demanding situation?”
I take a moment to gather my thoughts before responding. “In my previous experiences, I’ve encountered difficult customers from time to time. I’ve learned that empathy and active listening go a long way in diffusing tensions. I strive to understand their concerns and find a solution that leaves both the customer and the restaurant satisfied. I believe in maintaining professionalism, even in the face of adversity.”
Pete nods appreciatively, a sense of approval in his eyes. “Excellent approach, Lani. We truly value a calm and composed demeanour in our staff. Now, one last question: where do you see yourself in this restaurant? What do you hope to achieve if you become a part of our team?”
I sit up straight, my eyes gleaming with determination. “If given the opportunity, I aim to excel in whatever role I’m assigned. I want to contribute my creativity and passion to the restaurant’s success. Ultimately, I hope to grow and develop my skills to become an integral part of the culinary team.”
Pete and Alison exchange glances, a silent understanding passing between them. Pete leans forward, extending his hand once more. “Lani, we appreciate your enthusiasm and the commitment you’ve shown. It’s clear that you have the drive and potential to thrive in our restaurant. Welcome to the team. You start tonight.”
A surge of joy and relief floods through me as I shake Pete’s hand firmly. “Thank you very much.”
He nods and smiles warmly. “I’ll leave you with Alison to sort out your uniform, paperwork, shifts and things, but I’ll see you tonight, Lani.”
It takes about another hour to sort everything out with Alison and to get a tour of the restaurant and a run down on the way the place is run, and by the time I’m done, I’m starving. I nip back home to grab an early lunch and then decide to head to the beach. I plan on picking up as many shifts as possible at the restaurant, so it’ll be nice to enjoy some free time while I have it.
As I make my way to the beach, I can’t help but feel relieved. Am I looking for a career in the hospitality industry? No. I just want to attend university and train properly. Dance properly. But this job can help me make that dream a reality. I’d hate to give up my place just because I didn’t have accommodation money.
The beach is busy, with people scattered all along the shore. The summer season has officially started, but Aisling explained to me yesterday that it won’t get too busy until next week when the majority of the schools break up for summer.
I head in the opposite direction of the party last night and find a secluded spot. I lay down my towel, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin. It feels like a balm, soothing the constant hum of energy within me, the heat of summer easing some of the constant tension I seem to carry everywhere these days.
As I lay there, I can’t help but think about the upcoming shift at the restaurant. The challenge of learning a new menu and the pressure of working in a high-stress environment both excite and scare me. But I know that I’m ready for this.
As the day passes by, I soak up the sun and let my mind wander. I’m drawn to the surfers out on the ocean, manoeuvring their boards effortlessly and catching waves with skill. There seems to be some sort of surf school nearby too, as small groups of people wearing yellow tops and carrying matching yellow boards keep appearing in the water for an hour at a time. I wonder if I could treat myself to a couple of lessons. It’s been years since I’ve surfed but I always enjoyed it. I’m sure the techniques and confidence would come back with a couple of refresher sessions. I’ll speak to Aisling when I see her and see if it’s worth doing.
Before I know it, it’s time to head back to the restaurant for my first shift. I quickly make my way back home, change into my uniform which Alison gave me this morning, and head back out the door.
As I walk into the restaurant, the smell of sizzling steak and frying onions fills my nose. My heart races with anticipation and nerves. I’m not sure if I’m ready for my first day.
Alison greets me at the door, “Welcome back, ready for your first shift?” she asks with a smile.
“I think so,” I reply, trying to sound confident.
“Alright, I’ll have you shadow me for the first few hours and then we’ll have you start taking orders,” Alison says, leading me to the kitchen.
The kitchen is hot and chaotic. Cooks shout orders to each other and rush around with pots and pans. Alison shows me how to ring up an order on the electronic handheld devices which send through the orders automatically to the kitchen. Seems pretty fancy to me. Back home all the cafés still used paper and pens to take the orders, but they seem easy enough to use.
I take my first order and my nerves start to fade away as I get into a rhythm. The rush of adrenaline is addictive. I feel alive. Free.
I’ve kept my relationship with my grandmother hidden from my father. He won’t find me here. He can no longer hurt me and I have three months to work and save up the money that he stole so that I can attend university in the fall. I can do this.
As the night wears on, the restaurant gets busier and my confidence grows. I’m taking orders left and right, ringing them up on the register, and delivering them to the kitchen. My feet ache and my back is sore, but I’m determined to make it through my first shift.
A group of rowdy men come in and sit in the booth closest to the till. They’re loud and obnoxious, making crude jokes and lewd comments. I try to ignore them and focus on my job, but they keep getting louder and more aggressive.
One of the men, a tall, muscular guy with a beard, starts hitting on me. He says he likes the way I look in my uniform and asks if I’m single. It makes me feel uncomfortable and hot. His scent is like an overripe fruit that has been left too long in the sun – cloying, heavy with a sickly sweet undertone that makes the air feel thicker, suffocating. It’s sharp and oppressive, and I feel it tangling in the back of my throat, like it wants to fill mylungs and leave me gasping for air. The man reaches over and grabs my wrist, pulling me close to him. I try to pull away, but his grip is too strong.
“Sir, please remove your hand from me,” I say calmly but firmly. He leers at me, baring his teeth. Something about him changes – the air feels heavier, more oppressive.
I look around the restaurant for Alison, hoping that she can somehow help me, but she’s nowhere to be seen. She must be busy in the back. I’m trapped and out of options. But I’ve been here before, I know not to panic. This stranger is not my father. It’s unlikely that I’ll get hurt. And if I do…well, I’ve known worse.
Suddenly, a deep voice calls out, “Hey, what are you doing?”