This choice: Tara heads off to her first day of job-hunting! • Go Back... In many ways, the worst part about coming back to her little Podunk town were the reasons that she had left in the first place—Tara had moved to Charleston in hopes of finding a job that she enjoyed doing. Or at least, paid well.
But now that she had been forced to move back to Spartanburg, her full ride at Wofford in Business might as well have meant jack squat.
Sure she had a decent shot at being a manager at any retail business in the area. But anywhere that wasn't legendarily awful wasn't hiring. She could have been one of those people who sold insurance over the phone, but thanks to a black mark from her previous employer, she was apparently put on a "no fly list" for most of the companies that did that around here.
All in all, it had been one humiliating experience after the other. Just a one-two punch after the other at every step of her trying to build some semblance of a life down here in Spartanburg, now that she was forced to be here.
However, there was one place that Tara knew would always need help. A place that went through waitresses quickly, and had a reputation around town for giving folks a hand when they needed it. A place that Tara had actually worked at for a year back when she was in high school, though she was loathed to even think about coming back. After having a corner office, a closet full of blouses and skirts, and a regular coffee intern that she could abuse, how could she have ever thought about going back to...
Ugh...
Big Daddy's Burgers & Fries.
"Welcome back, hun!"
It had been a hot minute since she had seen any of the working staff. The owner usually worked the night shift, but a lot of these older mainstays had been with the company since before she had signed on. Hell, probably before she was born. Out of the very few "permanent" staff members at this place, not one of them was a day under fifty. It was the waitresses that were fresh out of high school who needed some extra money that were a dime a dozen. That or the people who were between jobs and just needed a break.
You know, like Tara.
The woman who had greeted her so enthusiastically was Tammy—a little old southern woman in her sixties that Tara vaguely remembered from the occasional Sunday Morning shift that she had covered back in high school, but not by much otherwise.
"Glad to be back, Tammy." a lie
"You always were one of the best waitresses that we had." Tammy put a hand on Tara's back and guided her out of the dining area and into the back rooms, "These other gals that we got now ain't done half as much as you did in your first week with us, hun."
"That's... really nice." Tara tried to sound appreciative, but just... this job wasn't that hard, "Is this my uniform?"
"It sure is." the old woman smiled, "If you got any, you're gonna want to dress in jeans next time. Them some nice pants, and some of the stuff that's gon' splash on 'em just won't come out."
Tara grimaced. How many pairs of jeans did she actually own anymore?
"And here's the real part of your uniform—" the aging redhead referred to a stack of t-shirts in three various colors, "You get two, and you can pick from five colors."
Ugh. Tara did probably still have her old Big Daddy's t-shirt somewhere in her pajama drawer. They'd updated it since then, which was kind of neat. When she worked here last time, she could only have picked from Pink, Blue, or Black. Now they'd added Purple and Orange (probably because somebody from Clemson had endorsed them or something).
"Gimme a Blue and a Purple." Tara pointed out two shirts
"Sure thing—you look like a small..." Tammy obliged and handed her returning hire two shirts off the top, "Now if you need another one it ain't no big deal, but don't be askin' for a new one every week."
Holding them close against her skin, Tara was almost kind of tempted to steal another one. They were surprisingly comfy and well made—no wonder she'd squirreled her old one away for a sleep shirt... Had this been what hers felt like all those years ago?
"Alright hun, head to the Ladies' Room and get changed. I know that you probably remember most of all this, but we gotta get you through orientation before the lunch crowd gets in..."
***
Hours later, Tara's silver Honda Civic puttered up to the gravel driveway of her childhood home and an absolutely exhausted Tara, looking very much the part of a waitress, plodded through the side door that led into the kitchen.
"There she is, my working girl!" Mrs. West cooed as she broke away from the oven to greet her daughter with a big bear hug, "Ohhh you look exhausted!"
"I am." Tara groused, "How in the hell was I able to do all that and get straight A's back in high school?"
After years of working at a desk job, it was no secret that Tara had gotten a little used to a more sedentary position. She had gone into work that day at ten 'o' clock, and her shift had lasted six and a half hours, counting lunch. The complimentary lunch (a chili cheeseburger and fries, just like she used to get when she was a teenager) had gone very little in the way of making sure that she had enough energy to take on the sheer amount of entitlement that came from a bunch of regulars, Southerners, and elderly people.
"Well, it's only temporary." Mrs. West clicked her tongue, "Now go on and sit, Dinner's almost ready."
Tara plopped down into the dining room chair at the head of the table and groaned as she spread her aching legs.
"You didn't have to cook for me, mom—I could have gotten takeout or something."
"And spend your hard-earned money on junk food while your loving, patient, and wonderful mommy is happy to cook you up anything that you want?" Mrs. West laid it on thick, "Not a chance. Besides, listen to you gruntin' and groanin' over there. You deserve to come home to something nice."
Tara had been coming home to something nice for the better part of a month now. But for the first time in the weeks since she had been home, she really did feel like she had earned whatever big meal that her mama was making for her.
"I guess you're right..." Tara paused to sniff the scents that wafted throughout the kitchen, "And it does smell pretty good..."
"Atta girl."
  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2024 Bobo the Hobo (UN: psuedophobic at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Bobo the Hobo has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author