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Watch Your Tone(r)

Beca hurried, hefting the tray on her shoulder. Her back hurt like a mother fucker, her feet were numb, and fucking thankfully all she had to do was get two more tables out the door and they would finally be closed for the night and she could go home and pass the fuck out. Except that the two tables she still had to go were the rudest, white middle class people she’d ever fucking encountered in her year of waitressing, so this was going to try her patience even more than normal. Who even came into a restaurant at 9:48PM when they closed at 10? It was so fucking rude.

She took a deep breath and pulled a smile out of her ass. At least she wasn’t the waitress stuck with like a party of fifteen. It was some sort of team or something, all dressed in black and bouncing between speaking English and what sounded like full-on German. They’d been there for about an hour and half before they got their food, but they hadn’t made a fuss and were almost done now. But still. Fifteen fucking people. Beca was glad she wasn’t Stacie. Or Amy for that matter since she had to cook all that food. Geesh.

Beca stepped up to her table and put the tray on its stand. She handed out the food with a smile even though on the inside she was killing each and every one of the family of four in various, slow and painful ways. She still wanted at least a decent fucking tip for this bullshit. With one last smile she was off again towards the back with a sigh. The dad was going to need a refill before everything was over. She might as well just get it now and save herself the trouble and while she was at it get the bill ready for the other table that was basically done. Anything to hurry them the fuck out of her hair.

She grabbed everything she needed and headed out again. This time the smile she put on felt ten times as fake, but maybe twenty more minutes and she would be free as a bird. Well, free-ish. There was still cleanup work to do, ugh. She dropped off the bill and walked up to her other table, icy Dr. Pepper in hand.

Oh no. She could see the glares as she walked up. This wasn’t going to go well. Something had gone wrong. Which, surprise, happened when no one fucking cared about your order because you were a dick bag and came in like two minutes to closing. Except now she was going to have to deal with it. Great. Just what she always wanted. Like those stupid Sockem Boppers that her parents never got her for Christmas when she was little even though she’d asked for them for like five Christmases in a row. She was clearly still bitter about that. Chances were she was totally going to be bitter about what was about to happen too.

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