I wasn’t a thief. I had no intention of taking anything I couldn’t return later.
Back in the cloakroom, I hid my bag under my coat, hoping that nobody would discover my loot before I could escape with it later that morning.
I didn’t speak with Elvis again that day. Paolo had made it his personal mission to serve him himself. I glanced at him as I walked over to serve the table next to his, and he winked at me and smiled.
I mouthed two words. Thank you . And later that night, when I sat on the floor in the kitchen eating the meal I’d cooked myself, I silently thanked him again.
6. Devil’s Advocate
Arriving late to work was never a good idea. On days when Paolo was on the warpath, the only thing I could do was duck for cover.
“Where the hell have you been?” he bellowed, the second he laid eyes on me.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” ribbed Taylor.
I’d met Taylor only once before. She was the girl standing at the podium near the door on the day I’d weaselled my way in to the job. And she looked just as frazzled and run off her feet as she had that day.
“Why?” I asked, following her through the kitchen door.
Paolo called after her. “Taylor, make sure she gets her costume.”
What costume? Surely the drab black pants and white blouse we wore were punishment enough.
I followed Taylor into the staff cloakroom and closed the door behind us. I said nothing as she rummaged through the large plastic bag hanging on one of the hooks. I still said nothing when she threw a stiff white tunic at me. But when she dumped a white fluffy marabou halo on my head, I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer.
“What is this about?” I asked.
“’Tis the season and all that junk,” she quipped. “Paolo makes us dress up every year at Christmas.”
I’m not sure what was more disturbing: the fact that Paolo wanted us in costume or that Taylor had worked at Nellie’s long enough to know it was an annual event.
“No way,” I protested, thrusting the musty-smelling dress at her. “Christmas is three weeks away.”
“You’re getting off lightly. You’re the angel this year. I’m one of Santa’s gnomes.” She dipped in to the bag again, dragging out a pair of red and white striped tights, making me laugh.
“An elf, Taylor. I don’t think Santa had gnomes.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged. “You’re the angel. Be happy.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope.” She pulled open the door and breezed out as quickly as she’d come in, leaving me holding the angel dress and halo.
We managed to stay costume-free for most of the morning. Paolo started rushing around, ordering everybody to suit up before the lunchtime rush. I held out.
“Right now!” he ordered, clapping his hands as he approached me. “I want to see a Christmas angel, right now!”
“I’m allergic to taffeta,” I protested.
“And I’m allergic to insubordinates. Wear it or walk out the door.”
“I’ll make a deal with you, Paolo.”
Instantly he stopped walking and turned back to face me. I knew I’d piqued his curiosity.
“I’ll wear your dumb costume under one condition. You get me a new name badge… with my real name on it.”
Paolo deliberated for a moment before throwing his head back in a quick bray of laughter. “Fine. Whatever. It’s a deal.” He waved his hands in the air as he walked away.
“Do you even know my real name?” I asked, as he got to the door.
“Email it to me,” he replied, disappearing into the kitchen.
I couldn’t help laughing. Taylor the Christmas gnome jingled her way past me a few seconds later and I laughed even harder. It was going to be a long day.
I didn’t usually work the lunchtime shift. Working just a few hours in the morning suited me perfectly. It left the rest of the day free for exploring my adopted city.
Breakfast at Nellie’s was usually busy, but nothing compared to lunch. The build-up of people at the door was
Back in the cloakroom, I hid my bag under my coat, hoping that nobody would discover my loot before I could escape with it later that morning.
I didn’t speak with Elvis again that day. Paolo had made it his personal mission to serve him himself. I glanced at him as I walked over to serve the table next to his, and he winked at me and smiled.
I mouthed two words. Thank you . And later that night, when I sat on the floor in the kitchen eating the meal I’d cooked myself, I silently thanked him again.
6. Devil’s Advocate
Arriving late to work was never a good idea. On days when Paolo was on the warpath, the only thing I could do was duck for cover.
“Where the hell have you been?” he bellowed, the second he laid eyes on me.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” ribbed Taylor.
I’d met Taylor only once before. She was the girl standing at the podium near the door on the day I’d weaselled my way in to the job. And she looked just as frazzled and run off her feet as she had that day.
“Why?” I asked, following her through the kitchen door.
Paolo called after her. “Taylor, make sure she gets her costume.”
What costume? Surely the drab black pants and white blouse we wore were punishment enough.
I followed Taylor into the staff cloakroom and closed the door behind us. I said nothing as she rummaged through the large plastic bag hanging on one of the hooks. I still said nothing when she threw a stiff white tunic at me. But when she dumped a white fluffy marabou halo on my head, I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer.
“What is this about?” I asked.
“’Tis the season and all that junk,” she quipped. “Paolo makes us dress up every year at Christmas.”
I’m not sure what was more disturbing: the fact that Paolo wanted us in costume or that Taylor had worked at Nellie’s long enough to know it was an annual event.
“No way,” I protested, thrusting the musty-smelling dress at her. “Christmas is three weeks away.”
“You’re getting off lightly. You’re the angel this year. I’m one of Santa’s gnomes.” She dipped in to the bag again, dragging out a pair of red and white striped tights, making me laugh.
“An elf, Taylor. I don’t think Santa had gnomes.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged. “You’re the angel. Be happy.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope.” She pulled open the door and breezed out as quickly as she’d come in, leaving me holding the angel dress and halo.
We managed to stay costume-free for most of the morning. Paolo started rushing around, ordering everybody to suit up before the lunchtime rush. I held out.
“Right now!” he ordered, clapping his hands as he approached me. “I want to see a Christmas angel, right now!”
“I’m allergic to taffeta,” I protested.
“And I’m allergic to insubordinates. Wear it or walk out the door.”
“I’ll make a deal with you, Paolo.”
Instantly he stopped walking and turned back to face me. I knew I’d piqued his curiosity.
“I’ll wear your dumb costume under one condition. You get me a new name badge… with my real name on it.”
Paolo deliberated for a moment before throwing his head back in a quick bray of laughter. “Fine. Whatever. It’s a deal.” He waved his hands in the air as he walked away.
“Do you even know my real name?” I asked, as he got to the door.
“Email it to me,” he replied, disappearing into the kitchen.
I couldn’t help laughing. Taylor the Christmas gnome jingled her way past me a few seconds later and I laughed even harder. It was going to be a long day.
I didn’t usually work the lunchtime shift. Working just a few hours in the morning suited me perfectly. It left the rest of the day free for exploring my adopted city.
Breakfast at Nellie’s was usually busy, but nothing compared to lunch. The build-up of people at the door was
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