Written by: starshine_dash
Rated Everyone
Trixie woke with a start. It was late evening, her usual time for getting out of bed, however the shock was new. She looked over at the clock that rested on her bedside shelf and groaned. She had overslept. Again.
Sighing, the showmare rose from her bed and rested her hooves on the cramped floor of the trailer that she called her living quarters. It was far from a home, but that had been crushed under an Ursa Minor six months ago. The insurance she had taken out on it from Flim and Flam didn’t cover acts of constellations. Dodging between spent bottles of cider and empty Neighponese take-out containers, the unicorn made for her bathroom.
The water hissed and sputtered, but a solid buck to the rear wall forced the flow to something resembling a normal spray as she warmed up her shower. The water pressure was, of course, dismal, as was everything else in this tiny apartment in Hoofington. Soaking herself, she picked up the bottle of coatwash from the tiny shelf it rested on and squirted an overzealous amount onto her body puff. Truly, the little things in life are best, she thought to herself as she began to wash in the rapidly cooling trickle of water above her.
Trixie managed to finish before it returned to the absolutely frigid temperature that was the default for water in the complex. She groaned as she began to dry herself off with a towel that was still wet from last night’s ablutions. “One of these days I am going to have to have words with that nag who calls herself my neighbor. It’s bad enough that we have to share a water heater, but that she seems to use it all before I get into the shower every bucking day...”
Glaring into the mirror to see if Trixie had a response, the showmare began to brush her mane, restoring it to its usual luster. Usual for now, she mused. It had been at least five months since she could afford the wonderful mane treatment that made her wonderful mane shine in its full glory. Taking her leave of the small bathroom, the unicorn grabbed one of the clean bow tie and apron combinations that formed what was loosely called a uniform and exited her tiny apartment after giving a wistful sigh at the picture sitting next to her door.
It showed Trixie as she used to be, The Great and Powerful, in full glory on stage in Canterlot. Such things were behind her for now. Now, she was simply Trixie Lulamoon, night shift manager at Tia’s Own. It was a fancy restaurant that prided itself on serving recipes that Celestia herself had either created or enjoyed regularly. The princess had yet to comment on such things, but given the prices they charged it was certainly possible.
Trotting down the streets of Hoofington toward her destination, Trixie’s mind wandered back to that fateful day in Ponyville briefly. She had assumed too much about the intelligence of the foals that claimed themselves her biggest fans, and possibly bruised a few too many egos. It was only later, staying at her grandmother’s house in Trottingham, that Trixie found out she had inadvertently shown up, mocked, or put down the Elements of Harmony. Shaking herself out of her reverie she turned the last corner that lead to her place of employment.
Entering the posh building via the rear entrance, her ears were immediately assaulted by the noise of the kitchen. Chefs yelled at sous-chefs who in turn yelled at the lowest rung of the kitchen ladder, the dishwashers and vegetable cleaners. She drew the eyes of the lecherous older stallion who was known only as Head Chef and walked past without giving him any of her own attention. She had told herself many weeks ago that there was not enough salt in the universe. Moving out into what was colloquially known as the bullpen, she saw that the day manager was ranting at one of the new waitresses, an earth pony who still wasn’t used to carrying more than one tray full of food. For her part, the mare was looking sufficiently cowed. The kitchen and the wait-staff had their own pecking orders and newbies got the worst of it.
Trixie tapped the day manager on the shoulder. “Good Eats, are you sure she deserves this treatment? It is only her third day.”
The stallion rolled his eyes and turned towards the unicorn. “Listen, Trix,” he said, using the nickname despite how much he knew she hated it, “You’ve gotta be tough of newcomers.”
“Trixie believes a softer hoof works better. Your shift has a twenty eight point three percent higher turnover rate than Trixie’s and Trixie’s approval rating is seventy percent higher on the employee surveys.”
The earth pony’s eye twitched slightly. “Now listen here, missy, I’ve been doing this job for 10 years. You’ve been here less than six months.”
“And in those six months, Trixie has become your better in every way,” she said, stern-faced and calm. They both knew it was the truth. She was better liked, received more tips, and had gotten her position through skill and determination, instead of sleeping with the owner’s wife.
Good Eats just grumbled and left, his shift over with Trixie’s arrival. The dinner rush was about to begin and given that it was Hearts and Hooves Day, the entire restaurant was going to be packed.
“Ladies and Gentlecolts, Trixie wishes us luck this evening. As you know, it is a very special day for many ponies and we have a reservation list longer than Celestia’s mane. Trixie knows you are all capable of handling the job. The rush begins in fifteen minutes. Trixie suggests you hydrate and perhaps have a quick snack before it begins. Trixie will be at the hostess stand if she is needed.”
Her cadre of waiters and waitresses nodded and dispersed as the showmare made her way to the podium at the entrance to the restaurant. She took a deep breath and, as the door opened to reveal a well dressed stallion and his filly du jour, the fake, practiced smile flew over her lips as she recited the greeting that had become so ingrained in her mind that she occasionally answered her own door with it.
Hours later, an exhausted, well-tipped, and grumpy Trixie exited the back door of Tia’s Own. Carrying with her several meals sealed in foil and bagged, she sighed. The kitchen had performed admirably, despite the problems that had resulted in her lunch and dinner for the next week. Her waitstaff had remained stoic in the face of sobbing exes, broken tables, and other results of too much salt and not enough love. One of her number had managed to hold her breakdown until she reached the bullpen and it was with a heavy heart and a soft hoof that she had told the poor mare to go home, Trixie herself taking over her section of the restaurant.
Making her way home after another long night of serving those who had once applauded her performances, Trixie took stock of her life as it stood. She was about halfway to purchasing another traveling show trailer and knew not to deal with Flim and Flam for insurance--or anything really. She could recover her performing outfit from Twilight Sparkle at any time and she had a new show almost ready. It had taken losing everything she owned, and six months of suffering the indignity of being a lowly waitress, but Trixie’s life was almost back to normal.
Today had been a good day.