𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 • 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

03 • Dogfight

Dogfight
(Noun)

A 'game'  in which contestants pitch money and invite a girl out, with the objection of bringing the ugliest girl they can find. The man with the ugliest date, wins.

—

As three in the afternoon roll around, Mildred puts on her uniform, a simple dark green collared dress and apron, and headed to Luigi's, the medium-sized Italian restaurant that she got a job at.

It was her first day, having only moved here within the last week, and being only freshly 18, she hadn't much experience in the waitressing department.

The owner of Luigi's, Mister Bianchi, told her that she would be trained adequately while on the job. This furthered Mildred's confusion, because why wouldn't they hire someone who actually had experience? It seemed like a more valuable use of their time during the depression.

When Mildred arrived, the first thing she noticed was that she was the only girl working, but was surrounded by men. They varied in age, some looking as young as her, and others pushing sixty.

As Mildred walked in, she was instantly pulled over by Mister Bianchi, who greeted her warmly. "Ah, Mildred! Good to see you again." The older mans voice was raspy, like he'd smoked cigarettes his entire life.

"Afternoon, Mister Bianchi." Mildred smiled politely at the owner. "Thank you again for this opportunity, I really apprecia-"

"Ahh!" He cuts her off, throwing his hands up to silence her. "Don't you start, you'll be helping us more than you know."

It was an odd thing to say, because it didn't appear that the restaurant was exactly strapped for workers, so Mildred was unsure just how much help she could really be.

"You're going to be hosting," Mister Bianchi continues and pointed to a podium. "When someone comes in, you ask if they have a reservation. If the answer is no, check if there's a vacant table and seat them." His voice is very clearly New-Yorker, but there's a hint of Italian in there, though like it was long lost.

"Yes, sir." The other workers stare at Mildred as the owner showed her around, giving her tips and advice.

"We do take-aways, and we expect to have a lot of those tonight, being New Year's Eve and all." The old man grumbles, sounding like he'd much prefer for people to sit down and have a meal instead. "If that happens, you write their order down and sit them over there in the waiting area." Mister Bianchi pointed to a few rusty chairs next to the entrance. "Think you've got it?"

"I think so, sir." Mildred smiled.

"Good." He handed her a name tag which read 'Millie' and her mind thought back to the nickname Bucky gave her. She'd never had a nickname before, and now here it was, coming up again. "Well, we open in about an hour, so Marco here will help you set up tables."

Mister Bianchi snapped his finger at a young man, signalling him to join them. "Marco is my nephew," he said, clapping a hand on the mans shoulder. "He will make sure you're looked after."

Marco nodded politely to Mildred, chewing lightly on a toothpick. "Nice to meet ya, Mildred." He had an even thicker accent than his uncle, sounding over dramatised like they do in the movies.

"You too, Marco."

Mister Bianchi started yelling something in Italian to a chef and left the two of them to set up tables and chairs, adorning them with cutlery and table cloths.