Studying dance and theater in New York was nothing short of a dream come true for Marisol and it would have been impossible without financial aid. Her mother worked hard to put her on the path to achieving her goals, but she could only work so hard. Thankfully, the school provided her with assistance, so Marisol found herself in America’s largest city, the cultural center of the country, with dormitory housing, a meal plan, and a chance at one of the best performance educations available. She counted herself truly lucky and would never take those blessings for granted.

With all that in mind, New York was an expensive place to live, and while Marisol had her basic needs met, even she had some creature comforts she enjoyed. Trips to the movies and dining off campus were not going to be paid for with her meal plan, and money she had saved up was starting to dwindle. So much of her time was spent studying and rehearsing, but she did have some time to spare, and Jayda did not raise a lazy whiner! Marisol needed a part-time job.

That was how Marisol found herself with a notepad in her hand for her first day of work at the Wallflower Diner. The Diner had a retro vibe it was going for, so the waitresses wore short blue dresses with white accents and a white apron around their waist. It was… less than ideal in Marisol’s opinion, but she needed the job. When she thought about it as her “work costume,” it was suddenly not as bad in her eyes. Life was all about perception, all the world was a stage and all that jazz!

She was just starting her shift, looking out at the beginnings of the breakfast crowd. Her hair was pulled into a neat bun, her nails were trimmed, and she was ready to work!

...As soon as the waitress training her arrived. It was her first day, after all, so Marisol needed guidance on the ins and outs of the restaurant. She was a notorious quick study, so she was sure she would just need to be shown the basics of what went where along with a list of tasks. Once she knew the basics, she would jump right in and shed her newbie status. She was excited and not at all nervous in any way. She even arrived at the diner fifteen minutes before her shift to get ready.

It was going to be a good day. She was going to do great. She was definitely intentionally ignoring the social aspect of her new job. All was well.

Celeste was keeping herself busy at work. She had arrived a couple hours before they opened to help get everything ready. 

She helped the guys in the back get the grills and stoves going, helped prep some of the food that would be used throughout the day, chatted with the manager, Ms. Barbara Mary Johnson, (she seemed to like being called Barb for some reason.) 

Barb waved towards Celeste as she saw her. Barb had a big ole’ smile on her face and offered Celeste a muffin. Celeste couldn’t resist so she took it, prepared to save it for her break.

Barb nudged her, “Hey! Guess what? We gotta new gal’ workin’ now. Her names Marisol. We want you to train her. So you’ll start off by telling her the rules, showing her the ropes, then she’s to shadow ya for taday. Then tomorra she’ll be on her own or maybe train a bit more,” her thick Southern accent escaping with every word. 

Celeste was shocked - she hadn’t heard of any new person being hired. But Celeste was more than happy to help train someone new! She wondered who the girl might be, what made her want to apply at the Wallflower? Was she a mutant too? She hoped she had a good attitude - God, she hoped she did. Too many people came here with a no good attitude or were just jerks.

When Celeste saw a woman walk in in a blue apron uniform, she knew it was her. She quickly began to walk over to her, checking her watch. 15 minutes early. Very punctual. That was a nice change from the usual.

Celeste smiled as she approached the new woman. She looked young - maybe a little younger than her? “I’m guessing you’re the new girl, Marisol?” She reached her hand out to shake Marisol’s hand. “I’m Celestina De Ward, you can call me Celeste. It’s a bit of a mouthful otherwise.” She gave a big grin to Marisol. “I found out I’m training you this morning, so I’m super excited!” She motioned for Marisol to follow her to the back, out of the hustle and bustle of the main eating area. They had a small, very small training room where she offered a seat to Marisol and sat down herself.

“So, before we get started, do you have any questions or concerns? Of course, if you have any as we go please just let me.” She gave a smile and waited for her answer. 

Marisol was trying to keep her mind busy while she waited. Looking out at the floor of the diner, there were booths along the walls and tables occupying the free space. She was not sure what “sections” were there, but she made notes of the spaces between tables and chairs where she might have to walk. Just like on stage: if she was not conscious of props and set pieces, she was bound to trip or knock something over. On stage, it would ruin a scene, but at her job, she expected it might just annoy a customer, or worse, her boss.

>> “I’m guessing you’re the new girl, Marisol?”

Since she was so focused on her own thoughts, Marisol was caught by surprise as another girl in a waitress’s outfit greeted her. The girl could not have been much older than Marisol, and she had her blonde hair pulled into a loose bun, which in Marisol’s eyes, had a messy quality to it. Still, her tone was friendly, and oh God, she totally asked Marisol a question, didn’t she?

”Yes. Marisol. Is me.” Marisol needed a quick, focusing breath to right her ship. ”I’m Marisol and I’m the new girl. Yay,” she added with a nervous smile and gestured with both hands like she was expressing a burst of enthusiasm.

Celeste introduced herself, and right off the bat… she was a lot. Marisol was a morning person, but only in so far as she could function without problems in the morning. She lacked the pep and enthusiasm the blonde girl was bringing to the table. Still, enthusiasm at work was good, right?

Marisol dutifully followed Celeste to the training room in the back and took a seat. Once they were settled, Celeste proved to be conscientious, asking if Marisol had any questions to start them off. She probed her mind for her main concerns, not wanting to sound like she had not given the job much thought. To the contrary, she was overthinking it, like she did in most other aspects of her life. ”Just the basics, I think. Where to find what, the best way to take orders, and how not to get fired on my first day?” So, maybe she was a little nervous. She was new, and once she acclimated, she would be a natural in no time.

Celeste couldn’t help but give a small chuckle at the girl. She was nervous - Celeste remembered how nervous she was when she first started this job. If it hadn’t been for her Starbucks, she would have not been in any way prepared for this job. She gave the girl an encouraging smile, “Don’t worry - the nervousness wears off. It just takes some time.” 

Celeste nodded as she asked her questions. “Easy enough questions!” She brought out a small training guide, “This is pretty old, but Barb makes us go over it. Oh, and Barb? You probably meant her for that interview. She’s the owner of the diner.” Celeste leaned over to whisper to Marisol, “Just don’t inhale when she’s around and you’ll be fine.” 

>> Just the basics, I think. Where to find what, the best way to take orders, and how not to get fired on my first day?

Getting back to the job at hand, “So, really, you’ll be a waitress - your main duties is to help take the customers orders, deliver them to the kitchen, ring them up, and process their payment. That’s it.” She smiled, “At the back of the restaurant, where you’ll enter from now on, is where you can leave a bookbag or your coat when the weather gets chilly. There’s the waitress station, right by the kitchen door to the outside, where you can pick up your ordering number pad thing.” She really wasn’t sure what to call it but she shrugged and handed her one. “Most of today you’ll be mimicking me.”

She gave another encouraging grin to Marisol, “Just read through the guide… And try to gain something from it… Probably won’t get a lot, but something.” She sighed at that darn book. It had regulations from what seemed like the 60’s in it. “You’ll see how I interact with the customers and try to mimick it. You’ll want to start out by saying good morning, good evening, and then something else - how’s the weather? The weather is lovely today, etc or something.” She waited to see if she had a question before continuing, “Then ask them what they would like to drink and that you’d give them some time to figure out what they want. Then you go get their drinks, bring them back.” She smiled, “Don’t let them sense fear though, they’ll try to dispute bills and everything with you.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at the last part. Celeste patted her arm reassuringly, “Don’t worry, Marisol, we won’t let you get fired.” A few seconds later, she grumbled, “No one else seems to even when they actually should.” 

The blonde girl tried to ease Marisol’s nerves, which meant her nervousness was obvious and not just a figment of her imagination. Great. Fortunately, Celeste seemed to make a genuine effort to be welcoming and supportive. Marisol’s fears of having a rude, pushy trainer were thankfully unfounded, which she could chalk up as her first little victory of the day.

A training guide was handed over to Marisol, who promptly started flipping through it. It was definitely old, but it was a good place to start because it gave her something concrete. “Handle this food a certain way. Dispose of this accordingly. Keep these filled up with that.” She could pick up some rules from the book and fill in the blanks following Celeste, who seemed to have enough experience to feel confident talking about the job.

And boy, could Celeste talk. It was not bad since Marisol was depending on Celeste’s guidance to ensure she did not suck at her job, but it felt like a stark contrast to Marisol’s own conversational style: namely, that she shied away from conversation. Celeste had the energy and warmth that made people enjoy the way she talked. Even Marisol had to giggle at her hushed comments about the owner of the Diner. ”Noted,” she confirmed with a grin.

Marisol was noting a lot as Celeste spoke, jotting down mental reminders. Take orders, ring them up, deliver to and from the kitchen, enter through the back, leave belongings there, stop by the waitressing station. All the set pieces and steps were easy enough to follow and made Marisol feel more confident about the job. ”Gotcha. Though I won’t have a bookbag. I live at school, so I wouldn’t need to—” Marisol caught herself and rolled her eyes, ”Well, that’s irrelevant. Sorry, continue.” It was just an example, and there was no reason to correct her over something so small.

For her first shift, Marisol was going to shadow Celeste and watch how she handled the one part of the job Marisol was willfully ignoring: the customer interactions. Celeste had the process down to a science, or at least that’s what Marisol thought when it was explained. She was basically weaponizing small talk to move along the interactions. Small talk was not on Marisol’s list of talents, but Celeste made it feel like a script she could adapt. The idea sounded more manageable.

At least until Celeste warned her against letting guests “smell her fear” and all the hassles it would inspire. Marisol’s eyes widened, and Celeste responded by patting her arm. She watched the hand initially, but it gave her a sense of ease she needed. Her reassurance was quickly followed by a muttered aside that caught Marisol’s attention. ”Really? You’re the first coworker I’ve met besides Barb. What exactly am I in for here?” she asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. She had seen shows and movies where restaurant gossip was a thing, but Celeste had her wondering how much truth there was to the trope.

Celeste was doing her best to make Marisol feel comfortable. The woman had some nervousness about the job, which is understandable. Especially if she'd never held this type of job before. It was probably a good time to ask about her previous experience so Celeste could see how much of training Marisol might need, "Have you ever had a job like this before?" It wasn't too important of a question, Barb had already hired her. Barb liked hiring fresh talent that she saw potential in - whether they had the experience or not. Celeste could see some of the nervousness and the good thing is, being awkward around customers isn't grounds for hire. It's only if they're rude. And there would be plenty of customers who find it very endearing.

Celeste just hoped she didn't get a lot of the customers who complain about the prices or do the whole 'You sure I can't get this free?' crap they like to do every now and then.

Marisol looked like she was enjoying the handbook, so she leaned back in her chair and let her flip through & examine the pages, "You can take it home, if you'd like... Probably the big thing is that don't put your fingers in food or and it's better to just bring cups out for refills, that way you don't risk touching the straws and stuff." Really, the book was much more cooks in the kitchen than the waitresses, but it was good to be well rounded. 

>> ”Gotcha. Though I won’t have a bookbag. I live at school, so I wouldn’t need to— Well, that’s irrelevant. Sorry, continue.”

Celeste chuckled and gave her a smile, "Nice, that's awesome! What school do you go to?" It had to be a high school - she didn't look old enough to be in college. Could she? Probably in something similar to Celeste's school at the Mansion - they provided some type of dorms. Maybe if she found out, she could help tailor her explanations to help her understand or at least feel more comfortable with it.

>> ”Really? You’re the first coworker I’ve met besides Barb. What exactly am I in for here?”

She leaned over after making sure there was no one around, "People here are very chatty, when they shouldn't be, considering how bad they are their jobs. Don't take offense if you hear things about yourself or anything like that. Don't trust 80% of the place. The waitresses are fine, but most of the kitchen staff aren't. And Barb, Barb is really good." Celeste already had plenty of the whole 'you know that girl emits radiation? She's around customers food' crap despite safety. Celeste didn't even emit that much radiation, barely not even enough to pick up on a Geiger counter. She smiled, "I can tell you more but we need to be outside and far away from this place."

"Alright, any final questions, burning desires, last call for alcohol before we hit the floor?" 

Marisol knew the book would only provide her so much information, but she was a diligent study. The last thing she wanted to do was make a customer sick and get the restaurant shut down. She tucked the handbook into her purse before placing it where Celeste told her to deposit her belongings.

Evidently, Marisol’s irrelevant comment was relevant enough to Celeste’s attention for the blonde to ask more about Marisol’s school. She was proud of the school she found her place in, but there was something about telling people that made her bashful, like she was bragging or signing herself up to be called the weird theatre chick. ”Fiorello H. Laguardia High School. It’s a school for Performing Arts in the city.” It was probably good that the back room retained some of the nearby kitchen’s hear; it was a good excuse for the redness in her cheeks. ”Um, are you a student, too?” Marisol hoped that was not an insensitive question if she found out the girl quit school or something. It just felt like the logical next question.

According to Celeste, some of the workers were relentless gossips, talking behind people’s backs and shirking their own duties. Marisol’s stomach was uneasy, because the last thing she wanted was the looming concern that everyone around her was passing judgment. She had enough problems being social around people.

All she could do was cling to the people Celeste claimed were safe: the waitresses (mostly,) Barb, and of course, the blonde trainer herself. She tucked away the idea of meeting Celeste outside of the Diner for gossip; it was too early to think about, but once she started getting stories of her own, who knew?

Marisol was straightening the skirt of her dress, not quite focusing when Celeste asked for any last-minute questions or… alcohol? ”You can drink on the job?” she asked incredulously, before she heard the actual comment on a delay when her brain finally pieced it together. ”The phrase. Duh. No, I’m totally cool. Hella ready for this.” Her tone was not convincing, but she pressed forward. She was only Celeste’s shadow for the first few tables, after all. ”I leave my waitressing future in your hands. Let’s go.”

Celeste smiled as Marisol put the handbook into her purse. "Most of it will come from on the job experience. At least, that's how it was for me." 

>> ”Fiorello H. Laguardia High School. It’s a school for Performing Arts in the city.

She grinned, "Oh, that is really awesome. So, performing arts, so are you more of a dancer or an actress? Or both?" That was pretty awesome, actually. She didn't really have any friends, even back in Regina that were involved in theater. She had met them, of course, and they always seemed like pretty awesome to hang out with but she just never really became friends with them. 

>> ”Um, are you a student, too?”

She smiled and nodded, "Yep. Last semester of high school, then I start college at NYU in January." She wasn't sure Marisol's feelings on mutants yet, so Celeste decided to leave out the whole Xavier's as her school of choice for her last semester, unless she asked specifically asked her about it. She didn't seem like the type who would care, but no one can ever be too careful.

>>  ”You can drink on the job? The phrase. Duh. No, I’m totally cool. Hella ready for this. I leave my waitressing future in your hands. Let’s go.”

Celeste took a moment to stare at her with an arched brow before chuckling, "Yeah, the phrase... They don't even serve alcohol here. Well, not yet, anyways." Barb was in the process of getting the liqour/beer or whatever license for the store. She really wanted to have that option, especially for the nights where she brought in a variety of musicians and their bands. Celeste herself had actually invited Booker to perform at one a while ago. Maybe if a customer was mean Marisol, maybe she'd overlook it. That was really a good thing in this kinda job. 

She gave a smile and motioned for her to follow her, "So, again, for now, just watch me." And with that, she brought them into the floor. Lucky for them, it was a slow day. Not many people, mostly older people probably looking to relive their youths. She walked over to a table with 3 elderly women, "Hi, I'll be your waitress today. I'm Celeste, and this is our newest coworker, Marisol. She'll be watching me, so if you need anything please let one of us know. How are you ladies today? What can I start you off to drinks with?"

1 water, 1 iced tea, and 1 diet Coke. With that, Celeste showed Marisol how to write it down along with the price on the pad and then motioned for her to follow her to the drink machines. 

Celeste’s reaction to Marisol’s unique field of study was flattering. Some people thought “drama students” were a pretentious lot with unrealistic dreams and heads in the clouds. Marisol hated that kind of pigeon-holing because she considering herself a very grounded, realistic person who had passion and determination. There was no judgment in Celeste’s voice, and that earned her many Marisol Points right out of the gate. ”I act and I dance—ballet, even. I… kinda still don’t know what to focus on,” she said with a half-smile. She was a great dancer and a darn good actress, but eventually, if she wanted to be the best at one, she might have to drop the other. Both things made her so happy, she wanted to push aside the decision as long as he could.

It turned out Celeste was older than Marisol, but not by much. She was starting college in the spring, which was not common, but plenty of people had their own reasons for starting on an unconventional schedule. That was none of Marisol’s business. ”Sounds like you have an exciting change in your future,” she replied cheerfully as she followed Celeste out to the dining room.

They approached a table of three older women and Marisol watched Celeste work, keeping her mouth shut. She did smile and offered an awkward half-wave when Celeste introduced her. Celeste was courteous, sweet, and proactive. The older women seemed to eat it up, providing their drink orders with smiles. Marisol took mental notes like she was an understudy learning her role from the principle. Maybe Celeste could help her with more than just the basics of the job.

As they walked to the drink machines, Marisol finally spoke up. ”So you seem good with people,” she remarked. ”That’s good. I’m not. Good with people, that is. I really hope that doesn’t bite me in the butt here,” she added nervously as Celeste prepared drinks.

>> ”I act and I dance—ballet, even. I… kinda still don’t know what to focus on,”

Celeste wasn't sure the drama that went on in... Well, drama related specialization. Marisol seemed to want to do both but felt like she needed to make a decision. Celeste gave her a smile and unsure of anything else to really say, "Well, that's part of what your school will help, right? Help you figure which part is the best option for you. Maybe you'll be able to bedazzle them and not have to choose?" She heard Marisol comment about her future and she nodded. Too bad she had no idea what she wanted to actually do when goes there... What kind of job would she be good in? She had no idea. At least Marisol was committed to a field, already.

>> ”So you seem good with people, That’s good. I’m not. Good with people, that is. I really hope that doesn’t bite me in the butt here,”

As she put the drinks on a tray, she stopped to listen to Marisol's concerns. She gave Marisol an encouraging smile, "It may be a little hard, but you'll come around too it." She paused, carefully phrasing her next wording in a way that maybe Marisol would relate too. "Think of it... In a way, you're acting. These people - all they care about is their drinks are refilled and they get their food in time. Ultimately, they're not going to remember who you are - it's not a bad thing or anything, it's just the way it is. You're acting. And mistakes are okay - most people find it endearing if you're a little awkward or not good," She gave another encouraging smile to Marisol, "Most people won't care anyways. If anyone gives you a hard time, tell me and I'll handle them for you."

She paused, with an eyebrow arched waiting for Marisol to add any comments or questions.

Afterwards, on the way to drop the drinks back off at the ladies, she made a quick comment, "It's usually better to remember who ordered which drink, just to avoid the awkward 'who's drink is it?' kinda thing." From there, she stopped the drinks off and began to ask what they would like to eat. She wrote their desired meals down in her little notepad. She walked back to put the slip in the kitchen, "and this is where you put their order, food wise. Once it's ready, the kitchen guy or girl will yell. Be sure to remember at least one meal from the table so you don't forget when they call it out." 

Unfortunately, this place wasn't a high-tech, automated place - it was still very much a old, rinky dinky ma and pa restaurant. 

Marisol decided she liked Celeste’s smile. It was warm and it was usually the precursor to very kind words. Celeste still talked a lot, but if she kept saying the things she said, Marisol could forgive how verbose she could be. The dancer was not the chattiest person, so if Celeste was going to carry their conversations, that was fine by Marisol.

In an effort to help Marisol deal with the social aspects of her new role, Celeste drew a parallel Marisol had made herself. It was a nice thought, but she had already poked plenty of holes in it. ”It’s a nice thought, but I’d kill for a script. This girl’s not a fan of improv,” she admitted lightly.

Along with the encouragement and reassurance, Celeste slipped in a promise to step in if someone was giving her trouble. It was actually nice to know her job was not every woman for herself. She got the sense she could trust Celeste. She grinned and nudged Celeste’s shoulder lightly with her own, careful not to tip her tray. ”Still, nice to know I’ve got someone like you protecting me from jerks.”

They returned to the dining room and Celeste suggested she should try committing the order of her… orders to memory. ”Gotcha. I have a pretty good memory. I can totally do that.”

Celeste delivered the drinks to their customer counterparts and took food orders on her notepad. Marisol was trying to peek at her note-taking style, but Celeste had a good four inches on her, making the task harder. Once the order was complete, Celeste walked them toward the kitchen. Evidently, the store did not have some kind of program for entering orders. ”I guess I’ll have to make sure to keep my writing legible. I don’t need the kitchen calling me ‘chickenscratch’ or something behind my back,” she joked in a low voice, unsure if anyone else would be close enough to hear her.

Celeste liked Marisol. She might not be the best waitress due to her nervousness but it was something that came with the job - something that she would learn to adapt too. She seemed ambitious too, so after she got through her social anxiety, Marisol had the chance to become a pretty awesome waitress. Of course, Celeste hoped that she'd eventually get on Broadway or whatever actresses and dancers aspire too in New York City. Being a waitress was a good interim, but it wasn't something Marisol should be doing for longer than necessary.

>>”It’s a nice thought, but I’d kill for a script. This girl’s not a fan of improv,”

Celeste grinned. Poor thing. At least Celeste had tried. She gave a bit of a smile towards Marisol, "Well... Maybe... Um, practice makes perfect? Although, a script would be pretty nice. Just remember! You're going to get paid the most minimal amount possible, so don't let it stress you out or anything." It was said playfully but it was serious comment - you get paid crap, hope the tips are good, and you can't let people get to you.  

>> ”Still, nice to know I’ve got someone like you protecting me from jerks.”

Celeste chuckled as she nudged her, "Just doing my duty and all that to help the youngins''" she said in a fake country-like accent. It could be scary to deal with angry customers, especially the first couple times it happens. Plus, lots of customers are just rude. 

She saw, in her peripheral, a peeping Marisol. She was trying to see her notepad. That probably would have been help. She made sure that she would be able to see it on their next orders.

>>”I guess I’ll have to make sure to keep my writing legible. I don’t need the kitchen calling me ‘chickenscratch’ or something behind my back,”

Celeste laughed but made a shhhhhhh sound quickly. They were a little too close to the kitchen for comfort. She mostly tried to stay quiet, do her job, get out and do what she needed to do. She wasn't here to create trouble - she just wanted her money so she could pay her bills. She wasn't even sure what was up with the kitchen staff, but they saw themselves as better than everyone else maybe?

After a few more tables waited, served, Celeste stopped and leaned against the wall, "So we have a moment now. It's not common, but just keep an eye on drinks and watch if someone else comes in. Otherwise, yeah. Do you want to do the next table?"

Celeste had the right idea. Marisol would have to practice until she could develop her own routine as a waitress. She did not know the steps or lines, so she would have to think of them and run them until she was a natural. Learning from Celeste felt like a good start, and until she got the hang of things, she had to not worry about screwing up so much.

The comment on helping “youngins” had Marisol chuckling and rolling her eyes. ”Oh stop, like you’re even much older than me.” It was not what she expected, but Marisol was having fun at work. She did not even realize fun at work was allowed by the rules of societal norms. She was joking and laughing and making hushed comments about coworkers, (though nothing too hurtful, since she was not some kind of mean girl.)

Marisol followed Celeste dutifully from table to table, jotting down little things Celeste would say or do as she took orders and served food. Her notepad was proving to be very useful, even during her shadowing. When Celeste leaned against a wall, Marisol naturally followed her lead. They had a moment. She noted that it was not a “break,” because Celeste made them sound both uncommon and short.

The time had come for Marisol to take her first table and she felt a familiar sensation of butterflies in her stomach. It was a silly comparison, but she felt the nervous, excited energy that came before she stepped out onto a scene for the first time. After the first show, it was always easy to sink back into a sense of routine, but the first time was always special. ”I think I do.”

Marisol was not even finished with her sentence when, sure enough, the hostess led two businessmen to an available booth. A flash of nervousness hit but Marisol pushed past it, gripping her notepad tight. ”I can do this.” She then pivoted to face Celeste for affirmation. ”Celeste, remind me I can do this.”

Marisol had a good head on her shoulders - or at least she seemed like she did. She was going to adjust just fine, at least in the end. It was always hard to learn a new job, especially one where you have to deal with customers. Celeste had a really hard time adjusting to Starbucks when she first started working there in Regina. She nearly quit a couple weeks later until she finally started getting the hang of it. Her biggest issue was memorizing all the different combinations of coffees though... Uff...

>> ”Oh stop, like you’re even much older than me.”

She laughed and shook her head, "I dunno what you're talking about. I'm clearly the protector of all waitresses." She was, of course, entirely joking. Celeste had just been doing this job a bit longer than Marisol. Marisol was on her first day. She had been here just a few months now, "But seriously, don't let anyone run you over. You're my little trainee, so I'll be sure to keep any butt faces in check."

>> ”I think I do.”

Celeste almost nodded but the two businessmen entered the dining room. She didn't have the best feeling about them - sometimes businessmen can be pretty sleazy. One looked kinda like a used cars salesman and that always made Celeste super suspicious. She patted Marisol on the shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile, "Remember, you can tell them you're training and I'm your trainer. I'll be right beside you. If you have any questions, ask me. If you freak out, just tap my hand, and I'll take over." She smiled and squeezed her shoulder, "You got this."

Knowing Celeste was there to be a parachute to save her from falling was reassuring for Marisol. She wanted to handle the table on her own, but it never hurt to have a backup plan. Celeste was a friendly, encouraging safety net, which gave Marisol the final push to walk up to the booth.

Both men watched them coming and looked expectantly. They were not glaring or ogling, but they did not smile like the elderly women from the first table of the day. They were businessmen, so it was possible they were hoping for a quick lunch break.

Marisol took a deep breath and smiled. ”Hi, I’m Marisol and I’ll be your waitress. I’m still in training and this is my trainer, Celeste.” She gestured to Celeste to make her point clear. ”She’s right beside me.” The two men chuckled, which threw off the rambly Marisol, because she just pulled the comment from Celeste’s little pep talk. She offered a weak chuckle to go along with the joke she probably made.

”So, yeah. What are your drinks and how is your day?” It was more clinical than she intended and in the wrong order, but the men rolled with it, ordering a coffee and a water. They were also having a nice day, which was nice, so she replied accordingly. ”Nice! I’ll be right back to take your orders.”

Marisol was already stepping away from the table when one of the men called out, “Actually, I think we’re ready to order now, if that’s alright.”

Marisol whipped back around, her skirt following the motion on a delay. ”Oh?” She glanced at Celeste, then back to the table. ”Oh, yeah, sure! Fire away.” She flipped to a clean page of her notepad and documented a mushroom and swiss burger with fries and a BLT with sweet potato fries, which prompted an, ”We have those?” that led to more laughter.

With a nervous smile, Marisol held her notepad up. ”Alright, I’ll get these things in for you now then. And get your drinks.” Did not want to forget that step, after all.

The two women walked away from the booth and Marisol exhaled a big breath. ”Why am I allowed out around people again?”