"He says I should do whatever he says and not piss him off."
"Right. And the same goes for me -- do whatever I say and don't piss me off. Got it?"
"Um, yeah. Got it."
"In fact, apply that to everyone who comes in here. Customers, the barmaids, everybody. Do what they say and don't piss them off. Think you can handle that?"
Jimmy nodded.
"Good." DeeDee pointed to the back. "The beer shipment just came, so you need to haul ass and get all those cases down to the basement. Then get started on those bathrooms; we had a big lunch crowd and they're both a mess. When you're done with all that, come see me and I'll let you know what to do next."
Jimmy hopped to, and when his shift formally started at six he'd already been humping for an hour, while the full staff had punched in and was awaiting the coming factory rush. In addition to DeeDee and her assistant manager, Lisa, the bar employed five barmaids -- Janet, Terri, Gloria, Cindy and Charlotte -- along with Marco the cook and Tank the bouncer, who looked like a Hell's Angel in a bad mood. DeeDee had made it clear to Jimmy that he should consider all of them his bosses.
After the beer shipment was put away and both bathrooms were spotless, Jimmy checked in with DeeDee, who was counting change with Lisa near the register.
DeeDee glared. "Can you tell me why there's no Miller in these coolers?"
"Um, sorry?"
"The coolers. There's only two bottles of Miller in here."
"Was I supposed to put more in?"
"Yes, dipshit, part of your job is to keep the coolers stocked. Especially with Miller. Now, we've got no cold Miller, and the goddamn factory rush is about to start."
"I-I'm sorry. No one told me."
Lisa scoffed. "You're full of shit, Jimmy, I told you yesterday when you first got here."
Jimmy knew she was either mistaken or lying because she hadn't said a damn thing about having to stock the coolers. But he kept his mouth shut.
"Why are you standing around with your thumb up your ass?" DeeDee pointed toward the back of the bar. "Go. Get downstairs and bring up a case of Miller and get 'em in the damn cooler. Hopefully, they'll be cold enough by the time the rush starts."
As Jimmy started to slink away, DeeDee hollered, "GET THE LEAD OUT, GODDAMN IT!"
The browbeaten porter double-timed it, fighting the urge to tell the ball-busting bar manager to go fuck herself. As satisfying as it would have felt to tell DeeDee off, Jimmy knew there'd be hell to pay at home -- and since Nicole had agreed to possibly spend "sexy time" with him the next morning, there was no way he was about to make waves. With a fake smile, Jimmy fetched the case of Miller at the quick-step and stocked the cooler, determined to get through the night without incident.
At a quarter after six, employees from the Corrigan Rocking Chair Company started filing into the
Sitting Bull,
and within a half-hour, the bar was jam-packed with factory workers looking to unwind. Luckily for Jimmy, he'd stocked the coolers in time for the customers to enjoy cold Millers, but that was the only thing that went smoothly. He ran himself ragged busing tables, sprucing up the bathrooms, fetching cases of beer from the basement, filling coolers and doing tons of other odd jobs. It seemed the entire bar staff had been informed that Jimmy was a probationary employee who needed to kiss major ass because they barked orders at him without even trying to be polite.
"Jimmy! Get a case of Blatz -- and hurry up."
"Jimmy! Go to the storeroom and bring two salt-shakers -- NOW!"
"Jimmy! Why are there empty glasses on that table? You need to stay on top of that, damn it. Do your job."
"Jimmy! Someone just puked in the men's bathroom. Get your ass in there."
As he bowed, scraped and scrambled for his superiors, the sex-starved simp ogled the bitchy barmaids, bodacious in their matching silky hotpants and tube-tops. Jimmy's lust nearly got him seriously maimed when Tank the bouncer busted him gawking at Gloria's ass as she strutted past the jukebox.
"Don't be staring at my lady with your tongue hanging out, you little prick motherfucker," the behemoth bellowed. "Disrespect her like that again and I'll snap your punk ass in half. You hear me, bitch?"
"Yeah, s-sorry, I didn't mean to... I-I was just--"
Tank stormed away, uninterested in Jimmy's attempt to explain himself. With a sigh, the bony probationer resumed his duties, feeling like he couldn't do anything right, and that his coworkers all hated him. Perhaps, he thought as he blinked back tears, his wife and mother-in-law were right -- maybe he was nothing but a loser.
As he weaved his way through the bar with slumped shoulders, Jimmy tried to buoy his spirits with the hope that he might enjoy some intimate time with his wife the next morning. For Jimmy, "sex" meant licking Nicole's pussy, usually while under the covers, with no reciprocation -- and he rarely got even those paltry crumbs.
Nicole had made it clear early on in their marriage that his attempts at intercourse got on her nerves, since his three-inch cock barely penetrated her. "You end up sweating all over me and I get absolutely nothing out of it," she told him a few months after their wedding, destroying what smidgen of confidence he had and ensuring he wouldn't try to hump her again. Since then, their sex life had consisted of Jimmy toiling beneath the covers while Nicole either watched TV or read a magazine.
Something was better than nothing, though, and the prospect of a few minutes of intimacy with his beautiful wife spurred Jimmy on as he worked through his shift. He had almost talked himself out of being miserable when just before eight he glanced toward the front door and the blood drained from his face.
As the bar patrons cheered the arrival of their eccentric-but-generous boss, who was known for buying round after round for the house, the portly Red Corrigan strutted through the entranceway followed by Mike -- and Nicole.
With a high-pitched ringing in his ears and a knot in his gut, Jimmy dashed to the men's room and stumbled toward the closest toilet. He didn't quite make it and puked all over the floor.
