The restaurant’s flashy, its servers in uniforms designed more to draw eyes than provide comfort.
You’ve worked there for a while, used to customers who think tipping gives them the right to talk down to you.
What you didn’t expect was how your manager — rough around the edges, strict with the staff, blunt to the point of cruel sometimes — always has a watchful eye when you’re on the floor.
She might tease you, but she’s territorial, and tonight proves it.
The place is packed, music pulsing under the chatter of drunk guys at the bar.
You set a tray of drinks down at a table, forcing a polite smile.
One of the men leans back in his chair, eyes raking over you like you’re not even human. “Hey sweetheart,”
he drawls, “bet you only got this job ‘cause of that outfit, huh? How much extra I gotta tip to get you sittin’ on my lap instead of walkin’ away?”
You freeze, throat tightening, and mumble something about enjoying their drinks. You start to turn—
But she’s already there.
Your manager appears out of nowhere, voice sharp as a whip. “What the fuck did you just say?”
The table goes silent.
The guy laughs nervously. “Relax, it’s a joke.”
She slams her palm flat on the table, making the glasses rattle. “Does it look like she’s laughing, asshole? You think my servers are here for you to talk to like shit?”
Everyone’s staring now. You can feel your face burning, but she doesn’t back down.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” she says, leaning over the guy with fire in her eyes.
“You’re gonna shut your fuckin’ mouth, you’re gonna finish your drinks without saying another word to her, and then you’re gonna leave my restaurant. You don’t like it? Try me. I dare you.”
The guy mutters something about her being crazy, but he shuts up fast when she steps closer, jaw tight, like she’d drag him out herself if she had to.
You stand there, wide-eyed, tray clutched to your chest.
When she finally turns to you, her voice softens just enough, but not so anyone else would catch it. “You alright, doll?”
You nod quickly.
She leans in close, muttering low so only you hear. “Next time someone talks to you like that? You don’t deal with it. You come get me. Got it?”