They were snug, and stretchy, and short. Amber shimmied the hot pants up her legs. They were part of her new uniform.
The whole situation was weird. A few days ago, she had black pants. Now, she had these things? That’s what the card said. Some kind of change to her file at the Career Center. Updated by someone named “Mac.” It was a shift. Her attire, along with her training, just felt a little off. Different somehow. Her sessions covered off on the same waitressing skills she was going to need in her career assignment, but different. She wondered why they made an update.
Amber had a new trainer too. This one was smiling. A lot. She looked at the smiling face appraising her. Her other trainer seemed cooler. Smart, funny, the kind of person you’d want to hang out with. This girl on the other hand, seemed a bit much. Still nice, still smart and funny, but in a really artificial way. Amber had already picked up on the mannerisms a bit. For the tips. It felt kind of fake, sure, but studies had shown that acting extra friendly toward guests, even if they were gross, boosted your tips. A lot. And who was she to argue with the studies?
Her trainer was dressed in the same ensemble she was shimmying her way into. White sneakers, tan tights, orange shorts, white low-cut tank top. That was also kind of weird. Of course restaurants had uniforms, but black pants, black top didn’t really feel like it. This on the other hand screamed for attention, telling everyone what you were. Can’t hide it. But again, she was proud to be finishing her training to be a waitress. All the lessons up until now were great, so why shouldn’t the end of her training be the same? Weird feelings aside, it was a relief for her to get some lessons about how she could be boosting the money she was making.
Pulling the tank on, she swore her boobs were a little bigger than before. They stretched the top, pushing out a little farther than they should, than she remembered. They looked good though. Amber might have been one of Sarah’s friends before all this happened, but it wasn’t really like her to be putting herself on display like this. It was "for the tips."
But just as she was putting her name tag on, things shifted again, almost magically. Imperceptibly. But deeply. Amber felt better than before. Actually, she felt good. Great even. Standing there, she knew she had changed. A few days ago, and from the start of her time with the Career Center, she had wanted that cool job at the steakhouse down the street, black pants, black top. But it didn’t matter any more. At all.
There was a lot of makeup on her face. And a spray tan. And her teeth were whiter. And her hair was blonder. In waves. All part of the new update that she had begrudgingly went along with to not rock the boat. It was hard not to notice how much she had changed. But that didn’t matter either. She couldn’t take her eyes off herself. THIS was what it was to be a waitress. She could flirt, and oh would she for the tips. It was thrilling now, why had she questioned it before? She felt it. Who she was and what she looked like at this very moment, was everything.
“Amber, wow! You’re perfect!”
A big beaming smile reached Amber’s face.
Somewhere a few miles away, a green light blinked silently.
