A/N: I don't always just sit down and say "okay, whatever comes up, that's what I write about today". I could be doing something completely different--like Calc homework--but if a song comes up that I get an idea for, then I'll write it. Like this song.
Waitressing in New York wasn't all that different from Domino. The uniforms were still ugly, the old men still looked at her chest while they ordered, and she still came home smelling like grease with a handful of tips in her pocket. It was a lousy job no matter where she was, but that didn't mean that she didn't take pride in it.
The frustrating thing about waitressing, though, was that no one actually noticed whether you did a good job or not. No one goes to a diner to pay atttention to the waiter. She could've spit in the food and no one would have noticed. she didn't, of course. Rather, Anzu took care not to scrape the chairs or ever spill a plate of food.
Waitressing was just as much an art as her dance--keep the customers happy, keep the food coming, get the drinks, the bill, make half the food--all while being ignored and paid as little as possible. Anzu despised it all, but held her head up and worked every bit as hard as she did at her dancing.