Terrible Advice From a Career Temp- Chapter Four: Steady Pay- Steady Life

Sofie had her baby in early spring—an event that turned the entire household into a caffeine-fueled relay team. Benny was beside himself with joy. He never left Sofie’s side. When the nurse finally placed the pink-cheeked bundle in his arms, he went soft as butter in a skillet. Her official name was Mara Dignity-Rae Pail, but everyone immediately started calling her Smol—partly because she truly was that tiny, and partly because Sofie couldn’t stop saying, “Look how smol she is!” every five minutes. They started using that name more than her given one.

While Sofie recovered, Dena and Piper tackled the move into their new over-the-garage apartment—the one they’d all worked extra shifts and sacrificed weekends to afford. The unit had two bedrooms, its own washer and dryer, and best of all, no semi-trucks rattling the windows at 3 a.m. Piper swore she'd never go back to living without a dryer that actually dried things. “Smells like a win,” Dena said, folding towels while they were still warm.

Benny, meanwhile, was living his best new-dad life. He buckled down and focused all his effort on work. He had a goal to buy a family car for Sofie. For her part, Piper was proud of them. Sure, she still thought they were too young for parenthood, but they were taking it seriously. She was proud of them for that.

She also appreciated that, despite being busy, her schedule wasn’t a soul-sucking blur. Between her shifts dealing poker and part time smoothie-shop grind, she managed to breathe again. With Sofie wrapped up in baby duties and Benny pulling overtime to keep diapers on the shelves, Piper found herself filling in the gaps—errand runner, coffee supplier, playful auntie, and emergency lullaby singer.

By a few weeks in the chaos had mellowed into a rhythm. Smol slept through the night (sometimes), Dena started working mostly remotely, and Benny was promoted from demo crew to full-fledged drywall installer. Piper even enrolled in a few online community-college classes, mostly to prove to herself she could juggle more than poker chips.

She still heard from Hawk often. He was apparently almost done with his latest work assignment, “winning hearts and minds” in North Africa—whatever that meant. Piper wasn’t sure if he was running a diplomacy campaign or a talent show. Still, she appreciated it when he called instead of texting, his voice half lost in static but full of good intentions. They joked about meeting every summer like clockwork, a sort of long-distance, low-stakes friendship pact. “He must be lonely,” Dena said one night when she overheard.

“Yeah,” Piper replied. “But the man’s allergic to routine. The Marines might be why he’s still single.”

During the previous winter at work, Piper had hit her stride. She and Malika—once wary coworkers—had evolved into full-on work wives. Malika redeemed herself completely by bringing in new hires who were good with patrons. Gone were the days of Petie and Sawyer; in their place came reliable card dealers with actual manners and deodorant. Their tips doubled. The shifts flew by. Piper even started serving drinks between tables, perfecting her “OnlyFans smile” to the point that Al joked about nominating her for Employee of the Month.

Unfortunately, not all good things last. The work mostly dried up after their busy season—something Ansel had warned them about. Then Piper had her first truly awful workday.

It was late May. Ansel had them booked for a wedding. Piper found out in the group text that Al was running late because he’d accepted too many last-minute order changes from the bridezilla. The wedding planner changed more than just catering requests that day—uniforms, makeup, server positions—everything shifted to suit the host's whims, twice. There was no way to plan. Ansel tried to get the seasoned employees to help the two newer hires, but it was clear to the original staff that he had overpromised and already spent the deposit before realizing how far out of his league he was. He had to be losing money on this. Before starting, Ansel had spoken to the crew in a pep talk, explaining that this was an opportunity to get into the wedding entertainment scene. Ramon had got him into the door by recommending him. Now they simply had to do well enough to get into the coveted "word of mouth" sweet spot that meant financial and career safety in the industry. If only it had been that easy.

The wedding wrapped twenty minutes too soon, and cocktail hour ran long because the photographer and the groomsmen were trying to get an impossible shot. Piper was told to “stall with whatever party tricks” she knew to keep the guests from getting hangry and turning on them or each other. She was too afraid to do flaming shots, so she played Guess the Cocktail with the bar crowd. It worked, but it also made for some exceptionally buzzed relatives—especially since the only extra liquor on hand was a Costco sized Gold's Vodka bottle that had been part of the venue’s decor.

Thankfully, Malika filled the schedule gaps with better games she’d learned from her club jobs. She even managed to get a limbo contest going for the seniors. That’s when Bert showed up.

While the guests lined up for the buffet Ramon and Al had put out, Bert wandered over to chat with Piper. “Wow, it must be my lucky night to be served by a good-looking college girl like you,” he said. He was heavy, middle-aged, bald like a plucked chicken, and had a mystery stain on his dress shirt sleeve that looked like it had been there for a while. Piper immediately felt sorry for him.

"Well, actually, I’m not a university student,” Piper replied. “I couldn’t afford it. I’m making my way through community college right now.” Bert coughed into his beer. “Really? I'd have pegged you for a rich girl who’d never bother with the likes of me.” Piper felt uncomfortably flattered, fearing it’d get ugly if she didn’t keep it casual. “Nope,” she said. “I’m just good at being poor.” She winked as she turned over the bar to Trish and moved on to her poker table for the rest of the gig. Bert followed her around like a depressed shadow the rest of the night. John brought him drink after drink until his ex came to cut him off. When it was time to pack up, Piper made sure he had a ride home. He did—his ex-wife, who’d pity-invited him, something Bert talked about at length. He told Piper all the unwanted details of how his ex nagged him for years about his cheating caused by his discontent that she was a "dead fish" in the sack. Piper did her best to be a sympathetic ear for the miserable Bert, which he in turn misinterpreted as a connection.

When it was finally time to go, Piper took one last look around to make sure nothing was left behind, Bert caught her off guard. In his boozy state, he rushed in to hug her goodbye. “Gee, you’re a swell lady!” he said as he squeezed her and spun her around. Then, instead of letting her go, they both tumbled through the glass door of the venue entrance, shattering it entirely. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but Bert apologized profusely before being shepherded to the waiting car by his annoyed driver.

Piper swept up the glass and sent a message about it for Ansel, who told her not to worry. And that was that. The long night of babysitting depressed divorcees was finally over. Piper made almost nothing in tips. Her feet throbbed, and her back ached. She missed their winter event bookings. The wedding season was killing her.

At home, she slept on the couch to avoid waking her mom, with whom she shared a bedroom. She turned off her phone and let sleep take her worries away.

That is, until the morning when Ansel himself came knocking on the door. Benny had already gone to work. Dena answered while making coffee. Sofie sat in the recliner, breastfeeding Smol and watching the news.

Ansel said, “Sorry to drop by like this, but I can’t get a hold of Piper. Have you seen her?”

Dena leaned over to shake awake Piper, who immediately noticed the missed texts, calls, and voicemails. She knew it had something to do with Bert and the broken glass door.

Piper invited Ansel in. “Piper, I’m sorry to do this, but I have to fire you.”

Piper, wishing she’d had more time to read her messages, was stunned. “It’s about the glass door, isn’t it?”

Ansel shook his head. “The bride complained to the venue because Bert’s ex-wife complained to the bride. They gave me an ultimatum: fire you or be reported and lose my liquor license. It’s nothing personal, but without that license, I’m out of business.” Piper was sad, but she understood. “It’s okay. I appreciate you coming all the way here to tell me.” He patted her back and said he’d send her last check in the mail.

Once he was gone, Dena tried to comfort her. “Sorry, honey. It happens to the best of us.”

Sofie, unmoved as she cradled Smol, said, “I finally get what ‘shit rolls downhill’ means.”

Piper felt awful, even though she probably would’ve quit soon anyway. It still stung. She went to her room and texted Hawk back after seeing his usual good-morning message: I got fired, followed by a crying emoji.

Hawk replied almost instantly. Their loss.

Piper felt a tiny bit better already. Then, before she could type another message, he sent: You free this weekend?

Not sure where this was going, she answered, 100%.

The typing dots appeared.

I’m sending you a ticket. Can you visit for a week this time?

Piper, biting her lip in excitement, replied: Yup.

Check your email. I’ll see you soon.

Piper had gone from feeling like the bottom fell out from under her to being a jet-setter in less than ten minutes. She waltzed back into the living room, where Sofie and Dena were sipping coffee and gossiping.

“Looks like I'm going to Hawaii with Hawk!” she announced.