Emma Cole, a nerd in high school and untouched all throughout her life at a community college, was abandoned by her birth parents and grew up in foster care homes all around New York. Whenever her name was mentioned, the people who knew her laughed and called her foul names, since she looked like the female version of Steve Urkel and was easy to pick on and belittle. She had no sense of style. All she wore were big dresses that hid her tiny figure underneath and glasses which didn't do her eyes any justice. She owned one bag-- a beat-up leather she received as a gift from a spelling bee contest her freshman year in high school.
Though she went to school, she had no friends, no family, and no one to teach her about becoming a lady. Emma had done everything by herself since she was one year old-- the age she was dumped by her parents into the foster system.
At age twenty three, she lived in a very small apartment by herself. She wasn't able to land a high-paying job to afford a good house, as of yet. Every time she applied to a vacant position she may have seen in a newspaper in the cafe, they would turn her down when she went to the interviews and the interviewers took one look at her. Appearance was more than her qualifications if she wanted to land a job as a receptionist or personal assistant at one of the big firms in New York City.
Emma decided to stop hoping for a better job and stuck with being a waitress at Carl's Cafe.
Her hell on earth.
Carl was the manager and owner of the cafe. A grown man, forty-five years old, who had experienced all the things he had chosen to chase in his pathetic life. He was a terrible boss and treated his employees as his personal slaves with low wages. One of his nasty habits was hitting on his female employees while on the job, but he never hit on Emma. Although she was a female, she just wasn't his type and was too unattractive to even be bothered with.
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It was Wednesday morning.
Emma had only just clocked-in. She placed her bag in her designated locker and began to take the orders of the customers, who were already in abundance for their morning coffee or pancakes and eggs or any breakfast meals of their choice from the menus provided.
She was about to deliver the orders to the kitchen when a pair of hands grabbed her by the arm.
"You have to work a double today. Tisha is sick. I need you to fill in." And he was gone right after his command.
Emma continued to the kitchen to drop off the customers' orders. Since Tisha was sick, she would have to take her place at the cash register and coffee machines. She was about to have another terrible day in hell but, obeying Carl's command, she worked the double shift without complaint.
On Thursday, the same thing happened-- working a double without getting anything extra for filling in. And the same thing happened on Friday.
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