Farai
Brain rot
On September 17th, the night was cold and the sky was sprinkling a few drops from its clouds. To a great degree, it was silent, except for the sounds of cars and people walking by. Only a few people walked along the sidewalk, either walking towards or away from the club. The club was one of the few in the area, and travelling to any other would take you to a completely different side of the city. For that reason, it was quite popular, and if you were to come, you’d be waiting in a long line that stretched across the street and sometimes even onto the road. If you were important or had special access, obviously you’d get to just go through immediately without having to wait. There was nothing particularly special about Porcelein’s Nightclub, but if you compared it to any other club in the area, it was substantially better. The drinks were said to be good, and they cleaned up after a night’s worth of partying. That said, there are still whatever you consider the normal club activities. The same people still go there as well.
It was currently 9:30 pm and Isaiah was just about to start his shift for tonight. He approached the nightclub slowly, and the booming music from inside was getting louder. There weren’t many people around unless you count the people waiting in line to go inside. For the most part, Isaiah didn’t mind, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being... watched? He didn’t know, but he just felt weird. Well, the atmosphere near a club was always weird.
If you focused enough, you could feel the ground shaking slightly. When Isaiah first went in there, he couldn’t hear a single word other people were saying. When he left his ears were pounding, for days. Just before reaching the start of the building, he turned a corner and headed towards the back of the building. He never understood why the door where the staff entered was so far away. Isaiah had been working there for a few months, so he doesn’t have the right to complain..yet. Isaiah had many and couldn’t wait for the day.
He eventually reaches the door, and just before opening it, Isaiah pauses. He could hear someone shouting from the other side. He leaned in slightly, trying to listen. The person was talking about him, they were always talking about him. Isaiah guessed he was just too famous. It was probably another employee. Talking about how he’s always late and doesn’t understand why the owner is keeping him around just because he’s popular with a few regular attendees. After letting the person finish their rant, he turned the doorknob and entered. He didn’t feel like pleading his case, and honestly, he shouldn’t have to. This is the only time he’s been late in a while, and despite that, it was only 30 minutes.
Isaiah placed his bag down and slipped off the shirt he was wearing and put on his "work shirt". It didn’t have the logo or anything special on it; it was just a long-sleeved black button-up shirt. The one they recommended was far too expensive for no apparent reason. As he buttons his shirt, some people tell him to hurry up, but he only grumbles in response. He’s already can’t wait for his shift to end and for him to go home and sleep. Once he was done tucking the shirt into his pants, he headed out into the bar. He was washing his hands at the sink when he heard a voice behind him. Isaiah didn’t hear what they said, but they probably asked him to serve them a drink. He shook his hands dry and headed in the general direction where he heard the person speak. It was someone he knew. From what Isaiah has heard, she comes here every night, and when he’s not working, she asks where he is. She’s always drunk and always ordering more drinks than she needs.
Her tolerance must be through the roof if she’s drinking that much. Isaiah guessed she was a sex worker or didn’t have her life together, but no one really knows. She had long black hair and long legs, and her face was somewhat pretty. She could easily find a man that would pay for her drinks, but she always paid for herself. She was weird, but Isaiah liked her because she always gave fat tips. He loves tips, especially because he gets to keep them all to himself, and he loves customers that give a lot of tips. Sometimes he’ll be walking out with hundreds in his hands because this lady will keep sliding him fifty-dollar bills.
She let out a sigh before propping her head up with her hand. "I’ve missed you. The other bartenders don’t make the drinks as you do. You actually put care into each drink you make instead of just trying to get it out as quickly as possible. I can taste it.."
After a bit of one-sided small talk mostly on her end, she eventually ordered her drink and walked away to wherever she goes every time she orders. Isaiah knew she was going to be back in a few minutes, but it was still "good riddance". She never talked about anything interesting, she looked like she lived here so how many clubs story the same thing? A lot.
A few hours had passed and he had only a few more minutes until his shift ended. The night was pretty slower than usual. He didn’t feel any pressure to get to the next customer who was staring him down from across the bar. Or muttering about how it’s taking a million years to finish such a simple drink. It took everything in him not to tell them to come up here and make their drink then if he’s taking too long. He finished up his last drink for the night and gave it to the customer before going to clean the area up. Isaiah started with sweeping and then started to wash and wipe the cups down. He kept glancing at the time. It’s always near the end of his shift when time seems to go slower...
Mana-kun
It was currently 9:30 pm and Isaiah was just about to start his shift for tonight. He approached the nightclub slowly, and the booming music from inside was getting louder. There weren’t many people around unless you count the people waiting in line to go inside. For the most part, Isaiah didn’t mind, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being... watched? He didn’t know, but he just felt weird. Well, the atmosphere near a club was always weird.
If you focused enough, you could feel the ground shaking slightly. When Isaiah first went in there, he couldn’t hear a single word other people were saying. When he left his ears were pounding, for days. Just before reaching the start of the building, he turned a corner and headed towards the back of the building. He never understood why the door where the staff entered was so far away. Isaiah had been working there for a few months, so he doesn’t have the right to complain..yet. Isaiah had many and couldn’t wait for the day.
He eventually reaches the door, and just before opening it, Isaiah pauses. He could hear someone shouting from the other side. He leaned in slightly, trying to listen. The person was talking about him, they were always talking about him. Isaiah guessed he was just too famous. It was probably another employee. Talking about how he’s always late and doesn’t understand why the owner is keeping him around just because he’s popular with a few regular attendees. After letting the person finish their rant, he turned the doorknob and entered. He didn’t feel like pleading his case, and honestly, he shouldn’t have to. This is the only time he’s been late in a while, and despite that, it was only 30 minutes.
Isaiah placed his bag down and slipped off the shirt he was wearing and put on his "work shirt". It didn’t have the logo or anything special on it; it was just a long-sleeved black button-up shirt. The one they recommended was far too expensive for no apparent reason. As he buttons his shirt, some people tell him to hurry up, but he only grumbles in response. He’s already can’t wait for his shift to end and for him to go home and sleep. Once he was done tucking the shirt into his pants, he headed out into the bar. He was washing his hands at the sink when he heard a voice behind him. Isaiah didn’t hear what they said, but they probably asked him to serve them a drink. He shook his hands dry and headed in the general direction where he heard the person speak. It was someone he knew. From what Isaiah has heard, she comes here every night, and when he’s not working, she asks where he is. She’s always drunk and always ordering more drinks than she needs.
Her tolerance must be through the roof if she’s drinking that much. Isaiah guessed she was a sex worker or didn’t have her life together, but no one really knows. She had long black hair and long legs, and her face was somewhat pretty. She could easily find a man that would pay for her drinks, but she always paid for herself. She was weird, but Isaiah liked her because she always gave fat tips. He loves tips, especially because he gets to keep them all to himself, and he loves customers that give a lot of tips. Sometimes he’ll be walking out with hundreds in his hands because this lady will keep sliding him fifty-dollar bills.
She let out a sigh before propping her head up with her hand. "I’ve missed you. The other bartenders don’t make the drinks as you do. You actually put care into each drink you make instead of just trying to get it out as quickly as possible. I can taste it.."
After a bit of one-sided small talk mostly on her end, she eventually ordered her drink and walked away to wherever she goes every time she orders. Isaiah knew she was going to be back in a few minutes, but it was still "good riddance". She never talked about anything interesting, she looked like she lived here so how many clubs story the same thing? A lot.
A few hours had passed and he had only a few more minutes until his shift ended. The night was pretty slower than usual. He didn’t feel any pressure to get to the next customer who was staring him down from across the bar. Or muttering about how it’s taking a million years to finish such a simple drink. It took everything in him not to tell them to come up here and make their drink then if he’s taking too long. He finished up his last drink for the night and gave it to the customer before going to clean the area up. Isaiah started with sweeping and then started to wash and wipe the cups down. He kept glancing at the time. It’s always near the end of his shift when time seems to go slower...
Mana-kun