"Dammit, I’m going to be late again,” Jordan pounded the steering wheel of her sleek black Camaro in frustration while glancing at her new Movado watch. It was mid-May and an early heat wave had already blanketed the Las Vegas Valley. The oppressive Nevada heat made its way through the dark tinted windows, causing her to sweat. She could feel herself sticking to the black leather seat while her perfectly applied makeup began to melt. It’s not practical to own an all- black car when you live in the desert, but she didn’t care. Her car made a statement.
The dash console read 5:42 which she kept 20 minutes fast, as well as her watch and clocks at home to help her stay on time. Stuck in construction traffic on the Las Vegas Strip, taking the backroad should have been quicker, but Koval Avenue was backed up with Strip traffic overflow. She had left the house early, but getting her four-year old son Kyle settled in at the babysitters for the evening wasn’t always so easy.
“Mama, one more hug,” or, “What time are you coming to get me?”, or sometimes it was an all-out crying jag. Today it was the crying jag.
“Honey remember its Saturday night, so when I pick you up at 2:30 in the morning, we’ll go to Blueberry Hill for breakfast, ok?” Instantly the tears turned into a wet smile. “Look at your watch so you’ll know when I’ll be back,” she reminded him. She wiped his face and kissed his cheek. This was their Saturday night routine and Kyle felt like a big boy because he got to stay up late with the adults and eat breakfast.
While sitting in traffic and tapping her finger on the steering wheel to the music, she reminisced the past year. It was just she and Kyle now. Kyle's sister, Ashley was back east with her dad. Her second divorce was a tough pill to swallow both emotionally and financially. She should have known something was awry when her husband suddenly wanted to move to Las Vegas from California. A year and a half ago, he’d gone on a two-week business trip to Las Vegas, and ever since his return, he had been different; he was moody and distant, and it seemed like she could do nothing right. Not to mention the late nights he was up “working on an important case,” and the return trips to Vegas for “business.” She instinctively knew that he was messing around, but she had no clue that her husband’s lover had been a man!
After the initial shock and denial, she was still emotionally reeling, but survival mode kicked in because it was not possible to survive on her Nevada dental assistant salary. Getting any kind of financial help from him was would take months through the courts, as he was shrewd and versed in the law. After all, she helped him through law school.
Kristina, her neighbor who was a cocktail waitress at the Oasis Hotel, told her about the money she made. Sometimes they would run into each other while sunbathing at the pool at their apartment complex. She liked Kristina, as she seemed more down-to-earth than the usual female element and was always clowning around. Sometimes they would go to Starbucks for coffee or hang out and watch HBO. But deep down, Jordan was concerned over the lassies faire attitude Kristina had over her health. Between the chain smoking and being rail-thin, she suspected that Kristina partook in the “splurge and purge” diet plan.
“I bring home about a bill and a half ($150) on a slow night. The best money crowds are when the fights come to town and Superbowl and sometimes it’s five bills. Once I made five thousand one night with a whale in my pit,” she bragged, while taking a long drag on her cigarette.
Jordan sat up; her eyes widened. “Five THOUSAND dollars in one night-are you serious? And what’s a “whale?” Jordan inquired, her interest piqued.
“A high-roller; someone who bets a huge amount of money.” Kristina replied, exhaling. Between the sight of her tobacco-stained teeth and the smell of coconut oil and smoke, it was all Jordan could do to stifle a gag.
Oblivious to Jordan’s scrutinizing eye, Kristina studied her. “You know you’re actually very pretty, just a little under-stated. You really should try cocktails.”
“I dunno; I don’t have any experience,” Jordan replied, pondering the possibility.
“It’s the Union. They’ll train you. And it’s no big deal. You’ll get the hang of it real quick,” she stated. “But I will tell you that the key to making BIG money is having big tits. I was blessed to be au natural,” she bragged and shook her shoulders, causing the tassels on her bikini top to shimmy in unison. “You’re cute, you’ve got great legs and a fine booty. Those are the assets you’ll need to play up. I heard the bar manager mention that they’re hiring waitresses for the pool.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” Jordan replied, her brain spiraling on the possibilities.
Five thousand dollars in one night! One fifty on a slow night…Jordan,
what do you have to lose? The stress of barely making ends meet. The
answer is always no if you don’t ask.
With that encouragement, the next day she got dressed up and made her way to the Union Hall to join the Culinary Union. Sure enough, the Oasis Hotel and Casino had announced the day before to the Union Hall that they needed cocktail waitresses for the opening of the new pool and lagoon, so she was sent out immediately for an interview with Mr. Godfrey, the senior bar manager for the Oasis. On her way over, she prayed.
Dear God, I have no experience. I’ve never held a tray or even know how
to call a drink order. I don’t even know my way around a bar. But I can do
this!
She made her way onto the Strip and hesitated for a moment, staring up at the tall hotel towers, nervous, excited, and hopeful, for she knew her life was about to change. Upon entering the foyer, she stopped short, for there were at least 50 other women there from the Union Hall. They all turned and looked at her, did a double-take, and began to snicker. These girls were rocking some serious party dresses which barely covered their butts. Spiked stilettos, expressive makeup and big hair completed their look. And skin for miles!
What a contrast compared to Jordan, who looked like she was going for an interview at the town library in her tan business tweed suit, low-heeled pumps, and pink Bonnie-Bell lip gloss. Suddenly she felt very self-conscious. Kristina wasn’t kidding around about playing up assets!
You don’t belong here, Jordan, you should just turn around and walk
out of here right now! Just leave!
But before she could act, She heard her name called. “Jordan White”?
All eyes were on her as she walked past them, and she could hear the snickering behind her as she entered his office. She stopped to take notice of the executive suite lined with Cherrywood paneling and matching furniture. Exotic artwork trimmed the suite while the smell of Italian leather mixed with patchouli wafted through the air, commanding respect from all who entered.
“Please close the door.” Mr. Godfrey said as she entered. She took note that although he was shorter than she with a Hindu Indian accent, kind eyes, and a dazzling smile; his tailored Armani suit exuded a level of class and elegance that made up for his lack of height.
He looked her up and down. “Dear, I’m not looking for secretaries. Do you have any cocktail experience?”
“No sir, I don’t”.
“What hospitality experience do you have?” He prompted.
She went blank. She had absolutely no waitressing or hospitality experience of any kind.
“I’ve got plenty of people experience sir. I’ve been a dental assistant for the past eleven years since I was sixteen. And you know how much people dislike going to the dentist,” She replied, pleased with herself for such a clever response to an impromptu question.
He smiled. “So, Miss Jordan, you’re telling me that you can handle people at their worst? Tell me how you would handle a guest in the Baccarat pit who is spending a large amount of money and they are upset about their beverage?”
Jordan cleared her throat. “Well Sir, I understand that the guest isn’t really upset about their beverage, they’re just nervous, so they are naturally going to project it onto the person that they are interacting with. It’s the same thing when nervous patients sit in the dental chair and they are a bit crabby.”
Intrigued, Mr. Godfrey studied her intently as she spoke. As a casino guru, he was adept at quickly sizing up potential waitresses. The Hotel business was lucrative, which meant having to keep and maintain a certain type of look. He noted the way she carried herself. She was petite, brunette with a natural look and had a gorgeous smile. She resembled a cross between Sandra Bullock and Courtney Cox with an athletic build and natural glow. She was a fresh change from the usual trampage, and she carried herself with class.
“And how would you handle such a patient?” He prompted.
“I would first and foremost make eye contact. Then I would ask about their day or make small talk, or I would ask something about their family if they were familiar to me. From the moment they walk into the office, I always would make the patient feel as if they were the center of the Universe. It’s all about letting people know that they matter and that you care.”
Mr. Godfrey smiled. For a split second, Jordan thought she saw a twinkle in his eye.
He reached to shake her hand. “Ok dear, it was a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming, and we’ll be in touch.”
“Yes sir, it was a pleasure to meet you as well. I look forward to hearing from you.” She smiled.
As he walked her out of the office and into the foyer, and feeling proud, she smiled to herself and didn’t look at anyone on the way out. During the drive home, she tried to get a hint of something that would tell her if she got the job or not.
Hmmm..not bad; good save, Jordan. He smiled when you played up your
people skills. He likes you.
After running a few errands and upon arriving home, she put her purse down and checked her message machine. The light was blinking.
“Hello, Jordan White, this is Mr. Godfrey from the Oasis Hotel. We would like you to come down for processing tomorrow morning. “
Finally, the traffic began to move, bringing her back to the present. Glancing at her watch, it was now 5:50 pm, and she should have been on the floor five minutes ago. As she entered the multi-tiered employee parking garage, she was nearly sideswiped by a beat-up 1979 Smokey and the Bandit style Trans Am barreling out of the exit like a bat out of hell. It was no other than Mike Schwartz, one of the bartenders, headed to his local watering hole for a night of women and debauchery and to gamble away his day’s tips. A plume of black smoke and a loud “bang” belched from the tailpipe and caused Jordan to jump and cough as the fumes penetrated through the a/c vent.
Mike Schwartz was a character. As chain-smoking, smooth talker from New York, he wasn’t ugly, But the black mullet hair and yellow teeth paired with mirrored aviators and was just not her type and he liked fast women. Still, he had a sarcastic, witty sense of humor and a rugged demeanor. Once when she had to work the showroom with him, she found herself laughing at his jokes during the whole shift and feeling a stirring that she didn’t understand. Maybe there was some chemistry there? She shook off the mere thought of it.
Don’t even go there, Jordan. You wouldn’t even know what to do with a
guy like that.
Still, she could tell he had a good heart. He knew she was naïve, so he was patient with her while she was still learning how to call drinks and he’d even given her a few pointers to make her life a bit easier. He even warned her about Gary.
“Hey Hun, just so you know, Gary’s a perv and a control freak. He’ll tell ya to come on over his office over somethin’ stupid, then he’ll try to hit on ya. Now since you’re an extra, he’ll break the rules and offer you the best shifts and pretend to be your pal, but after a while he’ll get aggressive, because he feels like ya owe him, so watch out.”
She gunned the gas petal all the way up to the third level, which meant it was already busy tonight, since the guest overflow parking utilized the employee’s parking lot. The hot desert wind swirled around her as she exited the car, whipping around her perfectly coiffed hair. So much for extra firm hold.
Grabbing her tote bag and frantically running for the time clock, Jordan hears clacking heels behind her. It’s Kathy Korian, who’s also running late with cellphone in hand and talking loudly in Korean. Just then Judy and Garnetta, the day shift pit girls who work out of the Lobby station bar are punching out as they pass. They give Jordan and Kathy an extra look because they are supposed to be their relief.
“Christine is covering the pit. And Gary’s waiting for you in the Lobby bar. Have fun!” They cackle sarcastically like a couple of hens. Without missing a beat, Kathy flips them the bird while swiping her badge and continuing to clack down the hall, her waist-long jet-black hair swinging in perfect timing to her strut. The pungent smell of Coco Chanel in her wake made Jordan sneeze.
Great. Gary’s in the station, and she knew there would be no way to sneak in without being noticed. This was the third time in two weeks she was late. And Christine covering the pit? As a busty blonde with big hair and a southern accent, she was a relief server who was a real pro at knowing how to work her crowd by serving copious amounts of alcohol and then milking them for tips. A real peach.
Gary Malone was the evening bar manager and was a stickler for punctuality, a trait that Jordan was not gifted with.
After clocking in and arriving at the uniform station, Jordan plops up a $5 bill on the counter for the attendant as an incentive to be quick. The French maid uniforms had to be professionally dry cleaned.
“I need both a size six top and six skirt please.”
“Sorry, no six top. Only ten.” States the Chinese attendant.
“How about an eight then,”
“No, eight, only ten and twelve.”
“Ok, then, please give me the ten,” Jordan sighed, frustrated.
How the hell am I going to fill up a 10?
As she entered the women's lounge to change, the time on her watch was now 5:56 pm. She was VERY late.
Fishing through her tote, she dug around, looking for safety pins. In her tote she carried everything from different shades of lipsticks, a compact, extra pair of pantyhose, and all the things she needed to transform herself into a casino goddess. After locating a half dozen pins, she quickly made alterations in the top, studying her profile with a frown. She’d finally gotten over the awkward stage of wearing butt ruffles and learning to walk in stilettos while balancing a tray full of drinks, especially when she saw the amount of money she was making.
“Well, it will have to do,” she said out loud as she studied herself in the mirror while donning the matching bolero jacket. Obviously, the uniform manufactures had the notion that cocktail waitresses are supposed to have big boobs, versus being petite and athletic-built. But she was no slouch in the legs and booty department, and with a 26-inch waist and thick muscular legs, the mini skirt and stilettos made up for what was lacking upstairs. It was a “rite of passage” to take the plunge to have breast augmentation surgery, a sort of “club.” Plus, the girls all bragged about how much more money there was to be made and how the boobs paid for themselves in a couple of months. Being a naturalist; however, Jordan was adamant against giving into peer pressure and with that, the girls teased her and labeled her a prude.
You’re not getting a boob job. Fuck them.
A last-minute makeup check and full body scan, she quickly made her way downstairs to the Lobby service bar. With her heart thumping, she said a quick prayer and entered the service bar.
“Ms.… Jordan…White…. How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence,” Gary announced sarcastically, while annunciating every syllable of her name, all the while she was cringing inside, but she held her composure. “I’ll need to see you in my office during your break.” She hated the thought of going to his office, as Gary was a control freak and a bully with a creep factor about him. His dark beady eyes and a provocative glint leered at her whenever he was talking, and it made her cringe. She was much more comfortable with Mr. Godfrey and his kind eyes, but he unfortunately he was the day shift bar manager.
Just then Christine entered the service bar with a tray load of empty glasses and some serious bank. A quick size- up of the cash on her tray yielded about a half a bill already.
That’s fifty bucks that could have been on your tray. Jordan, you’ve GOT
to be more punctual.
Christine stopped short when she saw Jordan, while scowling.
“I suppose you want this order, then?” she handed Jordan a pad of paper with orders.
“No, it’s ok, you can take it out.” I’ll just go behind you.”
“Fine,” Christine snipped, and began to ice up her glasses while Jordan fished around for a pen and an order pad. Jan, the usual bartender, rolled her eyes at Christine and smiled at Jordan while doing her famous imitation of stirring a big pot.
“Lobby Stew, stirrrr the pot!” she laughed.
Jordan smiled back and together they stirred the imaginary stew pot.
Just then Kathy Korian bursts into the service bar with Debbie right behind her, both yelling at each other.
“That’s MY money and MY customer, you thieving bitch…give it back!” Debbie gets right into Kathy’s face.
“No, he come to me for drink cause you a lazy ass!” Kathy spats back at her in broken English and points a rhinestone studded, one-inch red fingernail in Debbie’ face. Just then, Debbie takes a half-consumed Pina colada from her tray and dumps it over Kathy’s head, the creamy slush dripping down the sides of her hair, making her look like the Quaker Oat Man, while the backsplash landed on Jordan’s top. Stunned for a moment, Kathy freezes, but immediately puts her tray down and slaps Debbie in the face, and from there it was on! They became a tangle of flying hair and fury and with that, Jan picked up the red phone strictly for emergencies, and immediately two armed guards appeared in the Lobby bar, pulling the women apart. Gary appeared, clearly disgusted. Those in line waiting to call their drink order exited the bar quickly. Unaware and dismayed at the mess on her strategically altered top, Jordan remained in the service area while trying to wipe off the sticky goop. Debbie and Kathy stood at attention next to security.
“God forbid that there may be an OUNCE of class around this joint; I’m not running a daycare around here, so grow the fuck up or you can both leave. You’re both on a week suspension, as of right now,” he barked and pointed towards the exit. He watched Jordan nonchalantly clean herself, and while looking a little harder, he noticed the makeshift alterations with safety pins.
Amused, and in a sarcastic tone, he sneered, “Hmm…someone seems a bit shy in the upstairs department. Safety pins aren’t going to help you. You should just go get a boob job and all your problems would be solved,” a Grinch smile trickled across his face.
“And why is it that whenever there’s trouble, you’re always somehow in the middle of it, Ms. White?”
“I dunno, was just minding my own business,” she replied, suddenly feeling flushed.
“Well make sure you come see me after your shift,” he reminded her.
Jordan smiled and nodded, acknowledging his request while continuing to clean herself.
Once the momentum was back to normal, the evening proceeded as normal. Drink orders were taken, glasses were filled with ice, drinks were delivered, and money was made. Upon return, dirty glasses were placed in the dishwasher. The rest of the shift proceeded without incident.
The end of the shift approached with the arrival of the graveyard girls as relief. Once relieved, Jordan headed for the cashier’s station downstairs to convert her tokes into paper money. She thought about the warning from Mike about Gary while she pondered her meeting with him.
“I’m not going to let him intimidate me,” she affirmed to herself.
After cashing out at the cashier’s station downstairs, Jordan quickly changed back into street clothes and stopped at the uniform station to drop off her uniform, since the French Maid uniforms were not allowed to leave the property. Her heart began to thump as she approached his office. The door to his office was closed when she arrived, so she hesitated, then knocked. She could hear muffled voices.
“Just a moment,” Gary said. After a few moments, the door opened, and she saw Kathy Korian standing by his desk looking disheveled, her perfectly-applied lipstick smeared and her sleek hair ruffled.
“Next week, you’ll be in the Dice pit covering for Judy,” he told Kathy as he dismissed her. Composing herself, she gave Jordan a knowing look as she passed her on the way out.
“Come in Jordan. Close the door please,” Gary smiled, as if he were ready for his next prey.
Jordan froze. She was pretty sure she knew what was going on not five minutes before her arrival.
“Um, I’d feel more comfortable with the door open.”
“Fine. Well we need to discuss this tardiness problem of yours, young lady. This is three times in two weeks, and I’m going to have to write you up.”
Great. A write- up means she can’t bid on any upcoming shifts for 90 days. And getting a shift would mean she would have set days off and work times versus being on call or alternating days. A set shift would make her life much easier.
“Please Gary, I’m sorry, I’ve got a son and sometimes it’s hard to get him settled at the babysitters, then there’s the traffic with the construction.”
He smiled his Grinch smile. He knew he had her where he wanted her.
“Well I’m going to let it go this ONE last time, but if you’re late once more, I’m gonna have to write you up, Kid.”
He continued to study her. “You do know that the hotel offers financing options and paid time off for surgery?” He looked at her, questioningly.
“I’m NOT having any surgery.”
“I was just trying to help. The girls make so much more money after they get implants. With those thick legs and nice ass, you’d be a royal 10 with tits-think about how much money you'd make," he gleaned, the Grinch smile crossing his face again.
Mortified, but holding her composure, she looked him straight in the eye.
“Are we done here, sir?”
“Yes, fine, we’re finished. But don’t be late anymore. And here’s your scheduled station for next week.”
Jordan looked at it. It was all graveyard nickel slots. Shit shifts. She sighed.
“Kathy has dice and Judy has the main pit next week. Perhaps if something comes up, we could make a change?” He winked and looked at his crotch.
Jordan turned around, disgusted. “No thanks,” Jordan stated and walked out. She may have once been a naïve girl, but she knew what an innuendo was.
“Graveyard nickel slots!? Really? I’m going to have to run my ass off to make any money.” She thought as she exited the parking garage, tired and ready to end this day.
By the time she got to the babysitters to get Kyle, she had forgotten about the conversation. Sleepy but happy to see his momma, Kyle was ready for pancakes and the attention from the waitresses at Blueberry Hill.
“Such a big boy eating pancakes at 3 o’clock in the morning,” they’d say, or call him "little man."
Tonight she walked in, and to her surprise, it’s Mike Schwartz sitting at the counter by himself shoveling in a huge stack of pancakes.
“What’s he doing here, he’s usually at Ellis Island, surrounded by skanky women and drunk off his ass by now,” she thought. Without drawing attention to herself, she and Kyle sat in the booth on the far side. The waitress took their order and gave Kyle some crayons to color his placemat while Jordan counted her tip money from the night. After tipping out Jan the bartender and the change girl, she was just under a bill. She’d overheard a few of the other girls cashing out and they were always bragging about two bills or so. And they didn’t seem to work as hard as she did. Her mind wandered back to the boob thing. “No! I’m not getting a boob job!” she told herself.
As she was deep in thought, she didn’t see Mike come over to her table.
“Hey Jordy, whaddya doin here?” He smiled.
“Is this your kid? He’s cute. Whatcha name, Kid?” he asked Kyle and tapped his nose.
With a mouthful of pancakes, Kyle managed a muffled, “Kyle,” and with that, half of his chewed food fell out.
Embarrassed, Jordan put her hand up to her face and shook her head while Mike laughed. He took a seat next to Kyle in their booth and made himself comfortable by leaning back and stretching out his arms across the back of the booth.
Nervous and somewhat appalled at his brazen action, the mama bear in her came out.
“Excuse me, but aren’t you usually at the bar at this hour, especially on a Saturday night?” Jordan inquired, her voice having a snippy tone.
“Yea, well I was on my way home and wanted to eat,” he replied, lighting up a smoke. “Is that ok wit you?” he quipped back at her, with a pompous grin while taking a puff.
Annoyed at his arrogance, Jordan looked him in the eye. “I don’t care what you do, but I don’t remember inviting you to sit with us, let alone lighting up a cigarette” she stated sarcastically with a slight smile. “And my name is JOR-DAN,” she annunciated.
His grin turned into a frown, and he drew to attention.
“Well excuse me, Miss Priss, I just was trying to be nice,”
“You could be nice by asking to sit first and not lighting up a nasty coffin nail in front of my son and I.”
With that, he got up and snuffed out his cigarette and left without another word.
“Good riddance,” Jordan thought to herself. “What an ass!”
“Momma, who was that? Why were you mean to him?” Kyle inquired.
“Just someone who I work with, Honey, don’t worry.”
Tired and full of pancakes, Jordan motioned for their waitress.
“Yes Ma’am?” She inquired.
“May I have the check please?”
“There’s no charge; your check’s been paid.”
Seeing the confused look on Jordan’s face, she continued.
”Slick took care of the check.”
“Who’s Slick?”
“You know, Mike, the dude who was sitting with you. Bartender at the Oasis,” she smiled, as she began to bus the table. “Slick’s a great time, that’s for sure,” she gloated and winked at Jordan.
Wrinkling her nose in distaste, “Hump! I’m sure he is, …Thanks! ” Jordan stated as she gathered up Kyle and left a $5 bill for the waitress.
On the way home, she reflected on the chaos of her life which stirred a level of anxiety from within. Between the innuendos from Gary, Mike’s annoying arrogance, her issue with punctuality, and the back-biting competition between the girls, she felt like small prey in the middle of the casino jungle and wondered how she was going to survive it all.
