…at the one (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel, that I now work at:
1) For work, my one (eccentric) (blonde) (semi-manger) coworker wears a short black skirt and fishnets over dark emerald green tights.
2) When I go to dress a pan cheesecake for some people, I try to make the chocolate sauce into a clover on top, but you can’t really tell that it’s that, so I make sure to point it out to them when I serve it.
3) When the food starts coming out to a big table in one of the lounges – this table of like 6 or 7 people, with a(n elderly) (white) grandmother next to a “cool” (trans man) who talks of bringing leftovers home for “the boys” (cats?) – the (Irish) specials happen to be up first and I’m sent out with them, so when I deliver them to the appropriate people at the table, I’m like, “Luck of the Irish! You get served first.”
4) This (quiet) (heavyset) (late 50s) (moustachioed) (black) federal employer sits at the end of the bar and wants to know if we have Jameson and Guinness.
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