I'm not one for flowery language or superfluous flourishes, but if that's what you're after, I'll do my best. I am used to the fast-paced milieu of a busy club. 

My days begin in the late evenings with cleaning and preparing, but as the night approaches, the energy level rises. My profession isn't glamorous, and it doesn't leave me with much time for introspection and reflection. Yet, even in this gritty city, I remain dedicated to providing excellent service and ensuring the bar runs like a well-oiled machine.

Now, let's get to work.

 "How can I assist you today?"

"Hey honey, why don't you come over here and have a drink with me? You could use a little something to loosen your clothes..."

I'm little irritated by the person who keeps beckoning me with more provocative words. My priority is to keep the bar running smoothly, not to engage in idle chitchat or to drink with customers. The repeated urge to "loosen my clothes" is both inappropriate and unprofessional. My wardrobe is appropriate for the job, and I have no plans to change it based on the whims of others.

Let us refer to him as Jack. 

Jack projected mistaken confidence with his slicked-back hair and smug smile. His attempts to entice me with a drink were nothing more than a clumsy tactic to gain an advantage. But I'd seen people like him before, people who believed they could manage their way out of any predicament.

To a casual observer, Jack appeared innocuous, but my senses, developed over years of judging risks, warned me otherwise. His remarks were dripping with insincerity, and his eyes glowed with dishonesty. He acted as a predator, luring his prey with false promises and cheap flattery.

But I wasn't unfamiliar with dealing with predators. In my previous existence, I had traversed the dangerous realm of shadows, where trust was a rare commodity and every connection could be fatal. I understood how to read people, determine their genuine motives, and respond appropriately.

So, when Jack persisted in inviting me out for a drink, my mind evaluated the best course of action. I kept my cool, my look revealing none of the ideas running through my head. I'd learned the importance of patience and restraint while waiting for the right opportunity to strike.

With a nonchalant smile, I declined his offer, my words loaded with a subliminal warning.

"Thank you for the invitation, but I'd rather stay focused on my work. Maybe another time." 

My seemingly polite reaction conveyed an implicit message: I was not to be trifled with.

I caught a glimpse of surprise in Jack's eyes in that brief instant. Perhaps he recognised his attempts to manipulate me had been futile. He immediately recovered, a false smile hiding his displeasure. But I could tell he had miscalculated me, as had many others before him.

My attention was briefly diverted by the lively ambiance of the pub as I proceeded to study Jack and his partner from a distance. The darkly lighted room was festooned with neon signs, which threw a scarlet glow on the patrons that filled the space. The air was thick with a heady blend of smoke, perfume, and booze, producing an atmosphere suggestive of both secrets and pleasure.

I wove my way gracefully through the maze of tables, dressed in a form-fitting cocktail waitress uniform. As I approached the bar, the quiet clinking of glasses and the murmur of voices filled the air, my strides timed to the regular beat of the music.

The air is heavy with laughing, whispers, and sensual talks.

The bar is an example of decadence in and of itself. Stretching out to welcome customers to rest their weary hearts and indulge their needs, the polished mahogany counter exudes style. The walls are lined with mirrors that reflect the secrets and glimpses of longing that are shared within, giving the impression of grandeur.

This establishment attracts a varied range of customers. Artists and businessmen in fitted suits mingle as they look for inspiration in the night's embrace. Women in beautiful clothes move gracefully about the room, radiating confidence and charm. The environment is a fantasy melting pot where the pursuit of pleasure takes centre stage and inhibitions are let go.

I continued my journey, gracefully balancing a tray of meticulously crafted cocktails as I approached a group of lively revelers. Their laughter and boisterous conversations filled the air, momentarily drowning out the pulsating music. With a warm smile, I presented them with their drinks, the liquid creations shimmering and enticing.

A startling collision then broke my concentration, throwing me off balance and spilling several of the expertly mixed cocktails I had just served. I turned to find a new girl who had stumbled into me and was apologizing a lot for being so clumsy. Her eyes were big and her demeanour almost infantile, since she was a young, small brunette. 

In that moment, I felt an unexpected surge of empathy for the poor girl. I could see myself in her, back when I was starting out in this industry, making all the same mistakes.

However, the customer lost all patience with me and started accusing me of being irresponsible and inept. She also insisted that I tidy up the mess. She implied, maybe as a personal jab, that I had intentionally dropped the beverages on her. Under my uniform, I could feel my heart pounding, but I stayed composed and professional. It was trying my patience, and I knew I had to maintain control of the circumstance. It was all part of the job, anyway, and I was determined to keep my cool and provide every customer exceptional service, no matter how they were feeling.

"Yes, ma'am, I apologies for tha-."

 A slap across my face so hard I could taste blood was met with. I met the irate woman's gaze without flinching as she carried on with her tirade, not in the smallest bit phased.

"Don't you think this clothing is inexpensive? Guess what, though? It's not! That clothing is more expensive than your pitiful pay." She exclaimed, accusingly pointing to my chest.  "Don't you know anything about service?"

I said coolly, trying not to lose my cool even as my insides started to race. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Next time, I'll make sure to pay more attention."

"Do that, and maybe I won't slap ya again!" She snarled angrily.

I nodded understandingly. This wasn't the first time someone had been rude to me. Most likely, it wouldn't be the last either.

I need a break after this.

I catch Lana laughing merrily beside herself out of the corner of my eye as she takes in the spectacle.  As always, being at work made me want to reach for my cigarettes, which lay within the confines of my purse in my locker. 

Smoking during working hours was prohibited by business policy, however these days, regulations must be broken. By not going on a killing rampage, I am doing this establishment and my ungrateful boss a favour.

I carefully removed a cigarette from its box and held it to my lips, letting my fingers gently loop around its stem. Then, in the back of a soggy alleyway, I drew the flame between my teeth and exhaled a flawless plume of smoke that reached the sky.

Smells of rotting vegetables, stale beer, and trash permeated the dark alleyway as the clean, cool breeze blew past. It was an odd blend of the odours that had saturated the area for years, each with an exotic mix that generated a distinct aroma peculiar to the place.

God, this is so shitty.

With a sigh, I slowly inhaled the flaming tip of my cigarette and enjoyed the aftertaste.

I felt a presence and  looked to my left and saw Lana leaning against the exit door with her arms crossed, eyeing me curiously. She gave me a knowing look and her lips spread into a big smile.

She must make it a habit to observe everyone around her as they go about their everyday lives or perform their jobs. She's constantly on the lookout for a solid narrative and keeping an eye out for any potential drama or blackmail chance. That bitch.

I wondered why I was wasting time thinking about this girl, so I shook my head.

Lana grinned, obviously taking pleasure in my unease. "Darling, you don't seem very happy over there."

I rolled my eyes and looked away. "I'm trying to take a break and not get involved in the drama. Please don't call me 'darling' when you're clearly trying to upset me."

She giggled in delight, obviously finding this banter amusing. It reminds me of this one person.

 "You really do seem like such an uptight person. You need a guy in your life to help you loosen up a little," she added, still laughing gleefully and ignoring my comment.

What a joke.

"Well if you're gonna continue being such a pest, then I'll leave." I couldn't finished my cigarette since Lana is here and crushed it under my heels.

"The boss is looking for you." she said matter of factly, her smirk fading slightly, as her expression grew serious.

I raised my eyebrows in curiosity, "Looking for me? Why would he need to search for me?"

Lana shrugged, "Probably thought you'd run away."

I looked at her bewildered, not sure what the hell she meant by that. I choose to disregard her remark and carry on with my walk to the office.

As I walked into Gallagher's office, my employer, who was the definition of an unappreciative cunt. Also, a man of tight schedules and high standards who always expected others to share his vision.

Mr. Gallagher possessed the ability to elevate even the most basic task to the level of climbing Mount Everest. He was intolerant of errors and inefficiency and insisted on ongoing excellence from his staff. Every victory was greeted with a condescending nod and a demand for more.

He considered himself to be the supreme authority, with unwavering judgement and his word becoming law. He was skilled at micromanaging, paying close attention to every little thing and removing any possibility for originality or independent thought. His method was the only way that made sense to him.

I put a lot of effort and devotion into my work, but he never appeared to notice or value it. I was just another lubricant-coated gear in his machine, easily changed out and eventually forgotten. The staff felt bitter and frustrated because of his lack of appreciation, but he appeared blissfully ignorant of the unhappiness he caused.

Maybe because of his ungrateful disposition, he was always on the lookout for any indication of disloyalty or discontent. He assumed the worst about his staff members because he saw possibilities for desertion around every bend. He seemed to think that all of us were planning an attack on him and were prepared to jump ship as soon as possible.

Actually, the urge to get away from his oppressive presence was only heightened by his persistent mistrust and observation. He was blind to the fact that genuine devotion and loyalty were earned rather than demanded. I felt sorry for him because he was unable to get past his own ego and appreciate the worth of his staff.

This never-ending chain of mishaps, challenges, and tribulations would never come to an end.

I wore a tight pencil skirt, frizzy hair from my incident with Lana, and a slightly soaked blouse tinged blue from my attempts to wipe off the spilled drink when I arrived at the office. My employer didn't seem all that impressed, as usual.

A few were scolded here and there for my performance, as if they were personally offended that I had allowed such a disastrous event to occur. But, as usual, my explanation fell on deaf ears. They were nothing more than meaningless noise, and as soon as I was pardon by Gallagher, I walked out of the office, my tired feet carrying me around my last hours of my shift. More rude customers came and went, and the rest of the day passed without incident, with me blowing through three packs of cigarettes before my shift ended.