Not all customers were pleasant, of course.
There was a solo customer of about 60 years old who would throw obscene words at us and took delight in seeing our disgusted reactions. He’d laugh, “heee heee heee!” and made a fiendish sneer of an eight-year-old.
There was a pair of judicial scriveners. The bald one had wife and children, and the big-faced one was single. Both looked like they were in their 50s. The bald would talk nonsense that we wouldn’t know how to respond, while the big-face sniggered while incessantly smoked cigarettes. We especially despised the big-face because he’d tell us we were old, ugly, and stupid, and our breasts were small. He’d belabor his love for strip clubs and women of other hostess bars.
Mama probably didn’t want to deal with them herself, so she’d make other staff sit with them. I was inept at taking customers lightly when they were behaving unpleasantly. At some point, I stopped smiling or listening to them and made their whiskey strong so they’d get drunk and leave early.
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