Bittersweet Obsession

Just as the bell above the entrance of the restaurant chimed, it announced the staff to prepare themselves for the arrival of another ravenous horde.

Tamara briefly lifted her gaze from her position behind the counter, engrossed in the task of pouring coffee into a set of matched mugs. The day had been challenging right from the beginning, and the busy evening continued without any indication of slowing down.

The Urban Parlor was a classy and luxurious restaurant with soft and comfortable deep-crimson seats. It had a subtle grandeur that spoke of timeless beauty. In one corner was a grand piano with a shiny finish that reflected the soft, warm light from the crystal lighting above. Customers knew it had great service and a menu full of rich food, which made it a favorite among people who wanted a classy eating experience and comfort.

However, today was a total mess. Everything was all over the place, and the idea of having a calm and peaceful day seemed like a distant dream.

"Tamara!" the stout, slightly pudgy chef barked from the bustling kitchen. "Give me those orders, pronto!"

"Got it, Chef! I'm on it!" She quickly gathered the order tickets and rushed into the bustling kitchen.

Returning to the dining hall, an elderly couple caught her attention as they waved her over. She nodded and hurriedly jotted down their order on her pad, her pencil racing to keep up with her frazzled thoughts.

The restaurant was alive with activity, as the sounds of clinking dishes, hushed conversations, and the sizzle of the grill filled the air.

With skillful precision, she deftly maneuvered through the narrow spaces between the tables, effortlessly balancing a tray loaded with sizzling grilled steak and steaming cups of coffee.

As she walked up to a booth, a child accidentally bumped into his glass of milk, causing it to tip over and spill across the floor.

"Oh, no!" Tamara sighed, bending down to grab a cloth and clean up the mess. She stole a quick glance at her watch, realizing that her break had become a distant memory.

The bell chimed once more, and a boisterous group of teenagers barged in, filling the air with their loud laughter. Tamara, her smile strained from fatigue, struggled to hide her growing frustration. It felt like one of those days when everything had gone wrong, and the challenges had started well before her shift at the restaurant.

Today might have been the unluckiest day of her life. Even though it wasn't the worst day she'd ever had, it went downhill after her encounter with the ruthless Judson Beauregard. Without a doubt, it was one of the saddest days she had ever lived through.This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

While engrossed in her demanding jobs, memories of her heart-wrenching loss of Henry, the solemn funeral, the tense confrontation with Judson Beauregard, and the distressing accusations and threats he had hurled at her continued to plague her thoughts. These burdens weighed heavily on her, but for now, she had to direct her energy on handling the constant requests from the patrons.

She overslept this morning, so she had to hurry through her normal morning routine at home. Because of this delay, she had to run to get to her first course on time, and by the time she got to the campus gate, her clothes were drenched in sweat.

It was too bad as she was already late when she got to the classroom. During the first break, Bella and her friends not only soaked her clothes with a whole bottle of cheap perfume, but they also made her wear the soaked clothes. The mix of her sweat and perfume made her smell even more horribly magical for the rest of the day than it was before.

Even though she was already having a hard day, it got worse when she tripped over her feet when she was trying to turn in her test results. She fell down because of this mistake, which made everyone in her class, including her professor, laugh out loud.

She felt angry and frustrated, and she couldn't help but ask herself in her head, isn't there some rule or assumption that teachers shouldn't do things like this? It feels like putting up with "bullying".

As if her bad luck wasn't bad enough, it started to rain hard just as she left class to go to the restaurant where she worked part-time as a waitress. She could have just waited for the rain to stop most of the time, but not today. She needed to hurry because she had a shift to work that afternoon.

Furthermore, her sneaker split wide open, making it look like a crocodile's opening mouth. So, she ended up soaking wet from head to toe, looking like a rat that had taken an unlucky swim in the sewer. Tamara let out a sigh of frustration to calm herself down. She was used to being in embarrassing situations as she was always thought of as a strange person. But getting totally soaked was something she hated the most. She rushed to the restaurant, feeling like it would finally be a safe haven from the string of misfortunes she had endured all day. But while she was doing her job, she ran into something even worse. "Damn!"

Then there was a string of swear words, which were broken up by the loud clanking of pots and pans in the room.

"Why on earth do people like you even exist?" The chef berated and his pudgy face flushed with anger as he unleashed a barrage of curses at Tamara. He exhaled with a heavy sigh, clearly filled with frustration.

"Where's your brain, girl? How many times must I repeat myself to you?" the chef scolded. "Don't be sloppy! Pay attention to every order from every customer. Jot it down if necessary!" He kept going on and on, giving her a long speech about how important it is to have a good work ethic, covering every aspect from beginning to end. After a while, he noticed that she had been silent for a long time, and he started to feel tired of talking by himself.

"This is your final warning, and I've lost count of how many times I've warned you!" the chef huffed in exasperation.

Tamara bowed her head, her fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of her uniform. "I'm sorry, chef. I was careless. It won't happen again," she replied. With an annoyed expression, the chef snorted and waved her away.

In the few months she had been working there, she had never messed up a customer's order. But today was an exception. It seemed like her mind was all jumbled up, so everything she did went wrong. So, she had to face the chef's outrage. "Tamara," a man with a deep voice called to her.

Tamara turned around slowly and saw Ronan Ashenford, the manager. He was a friendly man, thirty-seven years old, with curly hair and eyes that often crinkled from his frequent smiles.

Normally, she enjoyed chatting and discussing various topics with him. He had mentioned before that she reminded him of his late sister. However, today, for some reason, after a series of unfortunate events that had plagued her throughout the day, she felt a sense of unease.

"Could I have a word with you, Tamara?" he said, motioning her to come closer with a wave of his hand, his expression indicating that he wanted to speak privately.

As Tamara walked into Ronan's office, her sneakers made a loud squeaking sound with each step. Her mind raced as she tried to come up with a good reason for all of her mistakes, but she found herself at a loss. She couldn't think of a good reason why she shouldn't talk to Ronan, so she gave up and decided to just accept her fate.

"What's going on, Ronan?" She walked into the room and her attempt to sound calm was clear.

"Please, have a seat," Ronan said with a reassuring smile, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. "Let's talk about what happened today."

"Sure," she said, sounding a little uneasy as she took a seat.

"I've heard that you've run into another problem," Ronan said in a calm voice. "It seems to be happening quite often, and I must stress that the management doesn't like it when things like this happen. As you may know, the rules of our business state that if this happens three times, you can be fired. Tamara, do you know about this rule?"

"Yes, I understand how serious the situation is, Ronan." She gave a serious nod. "If I get a second chance, I'll work hard to make it better."

Ronan gave an impatient snort and shifted his position, crossing one leg over the other. His irritation was clear.

"We're not running a charity here, Tamara," he said, but his voice was softer. "I have kept this secret from the management for so long."

"I know," said Tamara in a sad voice. "And I'm grateful for all you've done for me. I promise to try harder."

Ronan took a deep breath and then nodded slowly. "Okay. Try your hardest. One last chance for you."

Tamara forced a big smile, assuring Ronan that everything was under control. As soon as she turned around and started walking toward the door, her smile vanished. She wasn't entirely confident about her abilities, but she was determined to push through the challenges of the day.