Moonstruck is sixty-five. A throw-back from the 60’s. She gulps down bags of vitamins every morning with tea from the Amazon jungle before she begins her shift as a floor manager in the steak house restaurant. She wears her grey hair in a bird’s nest do and sports chandelier earrings with every outfit. You notice the earrings across the room before you notice Moonstruck.
On her days off she traps stray cats and has them neutered.
“Moonstruck, you need to be tough with the people you manage,” her general manager, Michael said. Moonstruck was having trouble keeping the wait staff in line. They were coming in late for their shifts, getting tipsy on leftover wine, and not giving her the respect she deserved.
“I can’t. It’s not my nature,” she said.
“But that’s part of your job,” he said.
“I try. Really I do. But it doesn’t come out well,” she said.
“Another job then?” he said.
“What about being a hostess where you greet and seat people?”
“No,” she said rolling her eyes. “Not that job again.”
It was no use. He’d have to devise an alternative plan and make her think it was her idea.