Batty St. Amour? Liam thought to himself, he had to assume Batty was short for something because it seemed like a joke to name a child something like that. “Charming.” Liam offered at her name, “I am Liam Avraham, I recently purchased this establishment so you’ll understand my reservations.” Liam stated easily as he glanced quickly at the resume and the cover letter, his quick eyes making short work of the things that mattered to him. She had no real restaurant experience, and absolutely no experience in fine dining, but Batty was young and young meant that she could likely be trained.
Liam was a quick study of character, but he needed to get to know her better before making any real decision. It was a question of if she was worthy of his time, or if she’d just wind up a disappointment and besmirch the Manhattan in some way. As it turned out however, a bus boy had called in sick for tonight, so there was an opening if she was willing to take it. “Ice cream parlors and wine bars are not apples and oranges, Batty, what makes you think you’ll be a good fit?”
“It’s short for Elizabeth.” She said, voice barely audible. Finally, she could fight it no longer and began wringing her hands together where they rested in her lap. Her mother had called her Batty, and Dotty had called her something that closely resembled the name as well. That’s why she’d used that name, whenever people asked her for her name, she’d introduce herself as Batty, like a Katherine might introduce herself as Kathy. Elizabeth was a name that reminded her of less than good things; less than good people. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Avraham.” The girl said politely, nodding as he spoke. Sure, he was another upper class guy that wanted to make sure that a girl living in a shoe box sized studio apartment didn’t mess up his new business venture. That’s just how the world worked. Still, he had stopped her from leaving and was giving her a chance, for whatever that was worth, so she tried not to judge him too harshly.
The girl nodded at his words, because, he was right, they weren’t the same thing, but he underestimated just how comparable they were. “No, they aren’t the same thing.” She agreed, “But the parlor gave me experience with taking orders, memorizing tables and who ordered which item, serving food, customer service, balancing two trays of empty glasses on one arm while slipping between the chairs of two large customers, and managing time to make sure everyone is being given equal service.” Batty told him, but that wasn’t what made her a good fit and she knew it. She needed this job, so she was going to have to tell him the truth, “But none of that matters. It doesn’t matter that I’m a hard worker, that I’m never late to work, or that I’m a fast learner.” She mused, already feeling her cheeks getting hot, talking was really not her strong suit. The words she said next were quick, strung together like she couldn’t get them out of her body quick enough. “What makes me a good fit is that I need this job. I don’t mean I need it because I need to pay for my iGalaxy infinity plus, or because I’m a college student that needs money to buy smokes and go out to the club. I mean, I need this job. I work full time at a drug store and that barely pays for my rent, utilities, and food, but now I’ve got a new source of bills on top of that. So for me it’s not about serving wine, it’s about surviving. It’s human instinct to survive, so if a job ensures my survival, you can bet I’m going to make myself the best match there is.”
