People. That's basically been Beca Mitchel's lively hood since she graduated Barden about year ago. Some she would never see again, and some she would. You never know with people. Whether or not you'll ever see them again. It's a hit or miss situation. If there was one thing to be learned by co-owning a bar/restaurant (the slash is silent) in New York is that people come and go. It's as simple as that.
There were two types of coming and going: expected and unexpected.
When she left Barden last year, she'd promised to keep in touch with her friends, and she did. Not the face-to-face contact that was needed to fully sustain a healthy friendship, but she kept in touch. But she doubted she'd ever see them again. That was to be expected, considering they were all on different career paths.
And then there were cases like Mrs. Hill. Mrs. Hill was an old widow that came to the restaurant/bar, The Pines, every Saturday night. She'd always order the same thing: a plate of sliced pickles and a shot of Baileys. Peculiar. But Beca liked peculiar. She got so tired of people always ordering the most boring items on the menu, like "A burger and fries please" or "I'm in the steak mood tonight". It was refreshing to get a different order sometimes. She liked the old woman, even if she'd only shared a few words with her. She'd gotten used to her weekly visits to the Pines, which was why it was so weird when one week she didn't show up. Or the next week. Or the week after that. It turns out Mrs. Hill had had a heart attack. Beca would never see her again.
Unexpected or expected, the fact of the matter is that people come, and have a tendency to go.
Beca sighed, wiping off one of the counters. She had never really had a set plan for what she was going to do when she grew up. Sure, she'd toyed with the idea of being professional DJ, but it was just that, an idea. Real life doesn't have room for silly things like DJing. But she never thought she'd be where she was right now.
After her first year at Barden, Beca had decided that she wanted to major in psychology. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea, considering she didn't really know what she wanted to do with her life. But after she graduated and was job hunting with her newly obtained degree, she found out the hard way that there were no jobs you could get with a degree in psychology, not any good ones anyway. So she decided it best to move in with her brother, Bryce, until she figured out what she was going to do. She had dabbled with the idea of going to back to school, but decided against it. She didn't have that kind of money.
She had had no idea what she going to do until her brother suggested they open a restaurant.A restaurant-bar. It was a fresh idea, that could either go terribly well or horribly wrong. But what other choice did she have? So her brother and her pooled together the little money they had and took out a loan. And so the Pines was born, along with a steady income for both her and her brother.
Beca smiled as she saw her brother coming towards her.
"Busy night," he said. And it had been. Beca hadn't sat down in five hours. She laughed.
"Seriously. I think we need to hire more staff."
When Beca had told her friends she was moving to New York, they had all thought she meant the city, and not the boring town of Yorktown where she was actually going.
Yorktown was a decent sized town on the outskirts of Manhattan, though more than half of the population originates from Yonkers. It was suburban and cozy, but a bit boring. And there was too much traffic between 3-7. Nothing unbearably awful, but still bad enough to mention. Beca liked Yorktown she really did. The people that came to the Pines were usually polite and left good tips. But sometimes it was a little unnerving to think that someone as outspoken as her could end up in a place like Yorktown.
"I think 10 employees is enough."
"Not if we have anymore nights like this."
Bryce smiled at her, taking the rag from her hand.
"You look tired. Go home. I'll close up." Beca shrugged, pulling out her phone. 11:02. Was it really that late?
"Thanks Bryce." she said, grabbing her bag from under the bar counter. It wasn't until she was settled in her car that she realized how tired she really was. Well at least tomorrow's Friday.