Generation 1-Chapter 1

I was surprised of how good I was making it now. I used to be homeless, and now I have finally been able to buy a house. Unfortunately, it's only from using money that would have gone toward me going to college. But life is life, and sometimes it's just how things play out.

Even though I was pretty much broke now, I at least was glad to be off the streets. It wasn't the best in the world, but it was something. I sighed, taking it in. I'd been working on cleaning it and making it half-way decent most of the day.

Today was a most important day. It would mean my future. With a place like this, no matter how small, comes a cost. I would need a way to pay the bills, and I don't think $50 a month would satisfy the landlord. I would have to go find a job.

The Little Corsican Bistro was about the sixth place I visited that day, and I was growing tired of looking. I was lucky enough to catch the owner as she was leaving, and she agreed to hear me out.
Molly French: "So why should I hire you?" she asked.
Me: "Well. I love to cook, and I always have. It has been a passion of mine, and I have been practicing for many years. It all started when my mom taught me to cook." Lie. As if my mother would teach me anything. I didn't even know my mother as it was, though Molly didn't need to know that. She gave me a skeptical look as if she could see through me and hesitated.
Molly: "I don't know," she said. That was it, I broke. I looked her in the eye seriously.
Me: "Please give me this job! I'll need to pay the bills, and I'm just getting off my feet. I had to use my college money to buy a house! Please. . . You can count on me, I won't let you down," I pleaded. I was desperate for a job.

My grovelling seemed to connect with something as she took pity on me. At least I had my first job! The next best thing is, she asked me to start today. So I had to hurry and put on the uniform she handed me and rush to the kitchen.

When I reached the kitchen I was surprised to find only employee! Usually places like this had many more, but then again it was kindly cramped. "I'll ring when I get the food done," the worker murmured.

"I said," he barely mumbled before turning to face me. He simply stared at me, and I begun to become very self-conscious. "What?" I asked as he continued to watch every move I made.

"Nothing, it's just . ."
"Just what?" I asked anxiously.
"Nothing." He turned to continue his dish. I sighed and started to pick up one of the orders on the counter, but he plucked it out of my hand expressionlessly and pointed to the sink. Oh boy, I thought annoyingly.

The rest of the night went like that. I was on sink-duty while he was living it up in Cooker's World. Not that that was much better, but I would have certainly preferred it. I worked a six hour shift with a full-house, and Mr. Happy (or what I'd like to call him) over there piling on the dishes for me to wash! I partially think he done it on purpose. After all that, I only brought home $150, but hopefully it would add up soon.

After i got home I couldn't help but to plop on the couch and rest. I was exhausted! It was going to be a long week. Just think, this is only the beginning.