She came to the restaurant last year with her mother, father, sister, her mother wanted a job.
That's how they do things.
I laughed and told the owner that they were gypsies, and a couple of the older ladies in the kitchen would catch your eyes and smile, they knew what I was talking about, the owner was dubious.
And while her mother didn't work out, a bit lazy, a bit stupid, as it were, the daughter stayed and helped out in the front of house.
Now at first she was a hard worker - for a hostess, wandering around and pouring water when she wasn't seating tables, but that was merely the first impression, and shortly in to the job she began moderating the work she did and carved out a niche flirting with the bosses nephew, eating buns and stolen desserts, texting away in dark corners of the restaurant....
Her father hasn't had a job since immigrating to Canada. They all arrived about two years ago, and at the beginning the father was careful to get everyone jobs, the wife, his daughter - the one old enough to work, but for himself there was nothing. He wasn't particularly interested in working. What with the government cheques and his wife and daughter's income, he didn't really need to work.
The mother, she was, while she worked there - very friendly with the owner. Friendly in the sense that she'd want to discuss private matters with him locked in his office, and most of the staff caught on pretty quick what she was up to. The owner as well, and so she made her exit.
She found another job, locally in the Italian community, and we heard through the grapevine that the owners of **** were getting a divorce as a result of an affair she'd been conducting, and everyone nodded, they all knew, after all - and here they borrow my phrase - "they're gypsies".
I tease her about being a gypsy, she doesn't like it, argues - poorly, that they're not and she doesn't understand that I'm just winding her up. I stop, less to stop giving offense than because she's beginning to wind me up...
She likes to talk. About school, for someone who had to learn English as a third language she's doing pretty good, in most of her classes she's achieved honors with distinction. One has the feeling that she's teacher's little pet...
Still something's not right.
She tells us how smart she is. She's so smart that her guidance counselor is worried that if her brain keeps running as fast as it's running it could explode, she's that smart. She tells us this with a straight face, she believes every word of it. And if academic performance is everything then indeed she's very smart. I'm not so convinced.
She checks the tips, every tip that comes off the table she checks the amount. She's tipped out, a busgirl, not a server, but she wants to know what we make. Staff don't like this.
She complains about her tip out, she's the last to arrive, the first to leave, her tips, they're discretionary, the waiters agree on what she's to be given but she finds cause for quarrel every time.
I bring in the trinkets - garage sale finds for the waitresses, she coos over them, asks me why I don't bring her any....one day I find her something, she throws it back at me - "not my style" she tells me.
***She wonders why I don't bring her things. I mustn't like her. Can we please talk about why I don't like her? She likes me.
***Now the Nephew, he's probably given her vanity a little too much of a boost, perpetually groping her and trying to pull her into corners, youth is always attractive but she - specifically - is not so. She has the general shape of the A&W Root Bear, and forever you find her snacking on the desserts she's supposed to be preparing for tables, or dipping biscotti into sweetened milk.
***I pick up some ice cream, it's the weekend and I've thought to make a bit of a treat, iced cappuccinos for the staff. And she follows me about, excited as a cat when they hear the sound of opened cat food, telling me I should have bought a different flavour of ice cream, never letting me out of her sight, waiting until I've poured them out and quickly grabbing one for herself before taking a sip and complaining "I hate coffee!!! Why did you have to make it with coffee!!!"
***On Saturdays we all kick in for lottery tickets. When approached with the offer to buy in she excuses herself with "I'm not 18"....
***She catches you at the worst times. Most of her evening is spent hiding in the darker corners of the restaurant or chatting with the hostess, still there comes a couple of times where she has to look like she's doing a semblance of work. She's gotten a dessert order off a small table and is too flustered to undertake both the desserts and the cappuccinos, and so starts with you - "Are you busy?...." And I've a vodka bottle in one hand and 2 bottles of wine on the counter for different tables - she can't handle liquor, she's underage - and you look at her.
For somebody so smart she's pretty fucking stupid.
She's manipulative, she takes to telling me the "Manager wants you to set this table..." when I'm running my ass off. She's the busgirl, but it's a bit beneath her. And, oddly, I know what tables need setting, and do it ASAP, but dead tables are not always the priority. I check with the manageress, she's said no such thing, and we're starting to get a little bit of a handle on what makes this little sociopath tick. It's high-school musical, every day...
These small manipulations, they're not limited to me, I see her playing the same games with the other staff, and they're beginning to catch on.
I collect corks, vague plans for a grand mixed media art project. At the moment, schedule and all what it is, I'm only collecting. But she finds my stash of corks beneath the till and asks if she can have some. "What for?" I inquire, no reason, she just wants some. I tell her can take some, but it's a generous some, and I catch her hand beneath the till on numerous occasions, she pretends it's a game, these petty thefts, but I'm annoyed.
***Everyone else, it would seem, is annoyed as well, and staff is agreed that she has to go. Well, everyone but the Nephew, who's agreed but he has other hopes to consider as well.... We approach the owner, he agrees that she's a bit young, but we decide to give her fair warning...
***She still can't figure out why I don't like her. I assure her it doesn't matter, that all I expect is that she shows up and does some work, she doesn't like to work and instead follows the hostess around telling her tales of her busy social life. Or hides away in corners to snack and text her secret admirers. The Nephew, he's a bit of an obsession with her, her youth, specifically, and he's been interrupted in compromising positions with her in the bathroom during the shift, she'll do whatever it takes to keep the job, as long as it doesn't involve work.
"Your obsession with fucking her..." I tell him "Will end with her fucking you...". He pays no attention, she's wants him to get his own apartment, move out from his girlfriend, then she'll sleep with him. He does all his thinking with his cock.
She follows me around the restaurant, being overly friendly, I'm the holdout, no one else particularly likes her, all would be glad to see her go, but I'm a little more direct in my criticism. Not personal, merely "please do some work", and she doesn't like that, being told what to do, and so seeks to ingratiate herself to me by telling me of a book she's working on and would I like to proofread it for her? and I politely decline, too busy with work, other projects on the go, and really I'm not a critic...
Still she seeks to flatter me, my judgement, it would be doing her the biggest of favours, and I dismiss her, she returns with another favour, compliments me on trifles, these pathetic attempts to win my confidence, chastised when I send her away disappointed.
And there's no doubt in my mind, no doubt whatsoever, she's a gypsy.