Pam had a tired look on her face as she arrived to her morning job, a waitress at a breakfast bar. Her manager, fat and balding, a total creep, greeted her at the door with his arms crossed. "Pam you're late for the fifth time, and you look like hell." He said coldly. Pam rolled her eyes, bloodshot and with dark circles. She tried to cover up her face with makeup to hide signs of lack of sleep, and other things.
"You're breath reeks of booze, and roll those sleeves down! No one tips a junkie." He said with an evil grin. She tensed up and pulled down her sleeves on her diner uniform, covering her bruising track marks. She wished she hadn't stooped so low to sleep with this jerk, just for some money to score some smack.
He walked up close, "And let's show of these goodies," He added, unbuttoning her top few buttons. Suddenly, the roar of motorcycle engines could be heard. "Get out there and serve them," Pam's manager ordered, smacking her on the ass as she walked out. Pam groaned, and put on a smile as she walked up to the table. "What can I get y'all?" She said with a smile.