As Mark rang the bell at the back of the hotel, he smiled, knowing he had at last done something for his mother. Life had been hard since his father had left many years before and his mother had struggled heroically to bring up Mark and his younger sister Kelly in their small apartment, but at last he could repay a little of the effort she had put it.
Since he was sixteen he had been planning this. Some guessed that Mark was still sixteen -- he looked quite boyish with his mop of black hair, slim figure, standing about 5ft 10. People said of Mark that he would fill out to a fine figure of a man. They said that when he was older he would have everything -- good looks and genuine charm. At eighteen Mark was kind, and growing slowly in confidence, with "boyish" good looks.
As soon as he could Mark had signed up with the agency to get work waiting on at dinners, banquets and functions, and had served in many different places, from hotels to marquees to halls, work he could do while studying in the day time. Of course, he had contributed to the "family pot," but had also kept some of his earnings for himself. He enjoyed buying music, and sometimes even clothes. But he had saved some as well. And now his mother had just gone on her first holiday that he could remember. She had flown to the sun with her sister for ten days. And Mark had paid for it.
Of course, he had needed to convince his mother she should go. And convince her she could find some spending money. In the end she had flown out earlier that day, leaving Mark at the house to look after himself -- with the promise of no parties -- and Kelly with friends. Mark was pleased his mother had gone -- she deserved everything she got as a result of what she had done for Mark and Kelly.
Mark's mind turned back to the shift for the evening. It was some sort of awards function for an insurance company. He wasn't sure what, and didn't particularly care. Probably normal stuff -- best salesman, special awards, best newcomer. He enjoyed his work, enjoyed the company of the staff he worked with, and enjoyed the interaction with the customers, but this was just one more "do." After the first half dozen shifts he had worked he had lost interest in who he was serving. Tonight he was with a team of ten others -- all the same sort of age as him, mainly students -- and the shift went well. A team of ten suggested a hundred people, with the hotel using their own staff to run the bar.
Food was served. Starter. Main course. Pudding. If you had asked later, Mark could not have told what the food was -- he just had to deliver plates to tables and clear up after.
Then there were speeches, and awards, and for the staff a lot of hanging around in a corridor polishing cutlery, waiting to clear tables. For Mark it was just a typical ordinary shift. After two years of this work he was used to the waistcoat and bow tie he had to wear. He had polished cutlery mountains. He had served more chicken than Bernard Matthews had grown. And this was just another shift. They worked hard. Joked. Waited to go home.
At last it was over -- most of the guests had left. About 10 men were left -- managers of the company. It was often what happened -- the organisers/managers would run the event, then stay the night in the hotel so they could drink afterwards until late, often staying in complimentary rooms if they had paid enough on the dinner. The tables had been cleared, and then stacked at the side of the room. The team were being approached by the group of managers -- it was always good form to say thank you to the staff who had worked hard.
"I just want to say thankyou for your hard work tonight," said the man who appeared to be in charge. "First time we've had a dinner like this and it went very well. Like to just give you a bottle of something to say thankyou." They gave each of the team a bottle of wine to say thankyou.
"Just wanted to say we are going to have a private drink or two, and wondered if one of you would like to come and serve a few drinks to us for a couple of hours? May be do a few other favours for us?"
The team knew what these things could mean. A bunch of blokes getting drunk. Cleaning up sick. Staying for hours till the bitter end. Trouble getting time sheets signed, so not getting paid for it. The team melted away quickly. Needed to be home. Last bus due. Taxi waiting. Truth was Mark knew they were all off to a club. As the team disappeared Mark moved over to the Manager of the company. He was a tallish thin man, about 45. Smart, although his tie was a bit dishevelled after the long evening. He was good looking, with a ready genuine smile. Mark spoke to him. They seemed like friendly people, and he might get a good tip.
" Sir, I know what these things can be like, but I've got nothing better to do. I'll stay as long as I'm happy." Mark knew he didn't have to be home as he was the only one staying there at the moment. He wasn't doing anything the next day either, and could leave whenever he wanted.
The man held out his hand to shake Mark's and introduced himself as Chris. He asked Mark his name.
"Mark, I know what you're thinking. I did your kind of work when I was young. But it won't be drunk and sick and gross men swearing. We're not like that. We've got other plans for later. Are you happy to give us a few hours?"
Mark thought before he spoke. "If it's not drink and sick, then what do you want me to do?"
Chris thought before he answered. "Absolutely everything we want. And no getting out of anything. And we won't pay you. And I think as our member of staff you need to call me sir. Still want to do it?"
