Kate, I don't understand what happened to me?" Reagan lamented, "The boys used to tip so extravagantly! Spent my nights stacking g's and coping keys like they were practically free."
Kate, frantically cycling through dozens of orders, cast a frenzied glare at her coworker. "Reagan, you've worked here for a month, I have no idea what you are talking about."
"I'm talking about my tips!" Reagan replied with a pout, slumping further in her seat. "I used to make over $250 on a good night, now I'm lucky if I break $50. It's bullshit."
"Hey, Reagan! Could you scooch over a bit, gotta clear this table." A bubbly voice called.
Reagan whipped towards whoever interrupted her pity party, only to be faced with a wall of cleavage.
"Ooops! Sorry about that honey!" Samantha laughed, rebuttoning her struggling shirt. "The girls just don't want to stay in tonight it seems."
"Whatever..." Reagan muttered, not making any effort to help Samantha clean the table.
"Alright then, see you two later!"
Kate and Regan watched Samantha totter away, both transfixed at the bubbly bimbo's curves.
"What a bitch!" Regan spat.
Kate, still frantically working as her colleague fumed, sighed. "Reagan, please, be nice."
"Why should I! Samantha is always trying to one-up me and she's stealing all of my tips!"
"Well, first of all, it's very easy for Samantha to one-up you, Reagan, because you are a terrible waitress. You are always late for your shifts. You steal food constantly. And I've literally never seen you write down an order."
"I got it all up here! I have a system!" Reagan replied, vigorously pointing at her head. "And besides, I'm no worse than any other girl."
"That is highly debatab-"
"And furthermore!" Reagan interjected, "No one around here gets tips because they bring the right kinda soda or show up sober to work. No, you get tips for being hot and I'm the most fuckable girl in this dive. Period."
"Again, debatable." Kate sighed, loading up her serving tray with plates. "Samantha is literally, and I can't stress this enough, a better server than you. And stop acting like she's some kinda troll, Sam's hot as hell."
Kate left to do her job, leaving Reagan all by her lonesome. Since working was out of the question, Reagan had nothing to do but stew in her own bitterness. "Who's she calling hot? Samantha is a fucking heifer..."
Reagan glared over at Samantha, making sure to note every surreptitious jiggle on the blonde bombshell's body. Sure, Samantha was like 5'11. And she had big almond eyes and a little button nose, all framed over pouty full lips. And yes she had tits bigger than most women's heads and hips like a viola, but that's only because Samantha was a fatty. It's easy for big girls to have big curves, it's only natural. What about girls like Reagan, huh? What about the girls who put the work in to keep it tight and toned? Girls who are willing to say no to that extra latte and scone. Where's Reagan's reward for her years of modest sacrifice?
As Reagan watched Samantha shimmy and shake from table to table, garnering plenty of approving looks from the men in the room, only one thought occupied Reagan's sour mind.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
