She started out as a babe. She was a dancer and a show girl. She didn’t have the tits the director wanted, so she bought some new ones to secure casting in the latest revue. She was never a feature, but a good high stepper in the line of half nude chorus girls Vegas is famous for.
Everything has its day, and her body was not the taut, hard body of her youth. She had made it as far as the longevity of dancers is concerned. Now an older woman in her forties, she took whatever work she could find in the tough city. She got a job at a new resort as a waitress.
She was really little more than a busser since this was one of the most lavish buffets on The Strip. The patrons lined up to get their trays filled with all the international fare that was offered on the line. She merely had to fill their drink orders and clear away the dirty dishes.
The pay was OK, a union wage plus tips equaled what she had made as a dancer, but God, she was tired. As a dancer she did two shows a day, with a lot of rest in between. Now she works a full eight hours a day on her feet the whole time.
She secretly hates this fucking job. Walk, walk, walk, bend and pick up four plates, four glasses, four cups, and miscellaneous stainless ware, wipe the table down, push in the chairs, and get ready for the next onslaught.
She carries the dirty dishes to the conveyor belt which transports them into the kitchen where they are washed, air dried, and put back on the line by the dish witches. At least she has a front of the house position which enables her to hook up some good tips and friendly visits with the tourists.
One older couple comes in and watches the whole operation. Remembering the restaurant they once owned from years passed, they recall the effort and physical labor of running all day. They sympathize with the server who looks almost fifty, but has herself together – beautiful face, nice hair, and make-up. She has a nice shape that was probably once considered a hot body.
The couple lingers watching. There is some techno music in the background that keeps everyone moving fast. Even the patrons pile up their plates and eat to the rhythm of the beat. Cut and chew and chew and swallow, cut and chew, and swallow, and drink. They start dancing in their seats, bobbing their heads to the music, and swaying and jerking to the beat.
Finally they are finished eating and the waitress stops to chat for a couple of minutes. She is a single mom with two teenagers who works hard… and yes, she used to be a show girl, a feather in her cap. She tried it, she made it for many years, but she can’t leave Vegas now. Her whole life was there. She will move up or down the ladder at this establishment to become whatever is necessary to feed and cloth her children. Maybe she will become a reservation hostess, she thinks angling for a job where she can finally sit down…
The nice couple leaves her a $20 bill and each of them gives her a big hug of encouragement and empathy. “You have really made my day,” she tells them. The old couple resolves once again to never, ever open another restaurant. They head for the gaming tables and slot machines. “We should have better luck here than in the restaurant business,” they suppose smiling.
(First published 11/27/12)
