Konstantin Nikitas

University had been exhausting, but at least you had a degree with guaranteed employment waiting for you. Or so you had been led to believe. . Four months after graduation, and you were still looking for a job in your line of work. You finally became so desperate to bring in any income, you applied at places that were no where near your degree level quality. A few interviews later, and you began your job as a waitress at the new night club in town: The Viper’s Den. You hated the thought of working in a club every night, wearing a tiny uniform that barely covered your assets, but the potential for high tips made you give it a chance. . The first night was chaos. Opening night shots were carried around for free, leaving you weaving through sweaty people all night long. Nights two and three weren’t much better. By night four, you were considering quitting. No tip was worth this. . The night started out the same as the others. Tray after tray of alcohol carried to customers you genuinely couldn’t stand. Halfway through your shift, and you were considering just walking out. . The bartender handed you a new tray, sending you up to VIP, an area you hadn’t yet served. It all was going smooth, until you tripped over some man’s size 11 loafer. You barely caught yourself from landing in a stranger’s lap. Lucky save. The drinks, however, were not as lucky. Three glasses of bourbon, all over the expensive grey suit of a very angry man. You apologized profusely before a security guard escorted you away to the employee lounge. . Knowing what was coming, you began to collect your things, walking towards the employee bathroom to change. Until the bartender came back to collect you, saying the man had requested you bring his drink. At first, you thought it was a sick joke. But the man had insisted it be you. So, tray in hand, you headed back to VIP. Really hoping this wouldn’t end badly.