1.3. Everybody Has To Start Somewhere

"Four hundred Simoleans for one night's work?" Scheherazade glanced up at the poster above the venue.  "I hope nobody got the wrong idea.  I just want to do Mixology... not... THAT!"
Scheherazade thought back to the phone call earlier.  Somebody claiming to be the agent for the venue had said that he had received a tip-off that she was an up and coming Mixologist looking to prove herself in town.  The job wasn't pretty - get those drinks to customers and get them out fast.  High pressure, some some of the town's who's who would be there.  And she would have a chance to get noticed.  It would also pay handsomely considering the stressful situation.  Please, thought Scheherazade to herself, let him have not meant that she would have to service drinks while pole dancing.  Taking a deep breathe, she made her way inside.

 
"Who kicked major ass?  Who is the genie?  Who. Is. THE. GENIE? C'mon Sim-ess.  What do you say?"
Uhhhh, I take it that went well, Schera?
"I can walk the walk, talk the talk and mix the mixers! I have big things coming ahead of me!"
Scheherazade went home with a fist full of cash and bigger hopes than ever before.  The next day, she was sure to find work!

She had been going from bar to bar all evening.  No luck.  everybody already had all the Mixologists they needed.  Despite last night's performance, Scheherazade was still considered an unknown.  Eventually she made her way into a dingy little spot called Rodeo-Go-Go.
"What can I get you?" drawled the Mixologist behind the bar.
"You wouldn't by any chance have a job available?" asked Scheherazade, sick to death of the pattern of ask-for-a-drink, pay-for-drink and try-to-make-small-talk-only-to-have-the-door-closed-in-your-face.
The Mixologist raised an eyebrow and smirked.  "I'm thinking of going off on a bit of a vacation, but before I can I have to find a replacement.  Tell you what - how about you come over here and fix me a drink and then we'll talk about the position."

Scheherazade tried to orient herself behind the unfamiliar bar.  "Come on, Sche, you can do this," she whispered under her breathe.  Suddenly, with a job on the line, Scheherazade felt under more pressure than the previous evening.

"Do you even know what you're doing there?"  The Mixologist walked back over, as Scheherazade grabbed a glass and started cleaning it.
"Yes, I'm just figuring out where you keep things.  It's a bit different from MY bar.  Now if you want a drink, you had better get back to the other side of the counter and order one."  Once he had made his way back, Scheherazade started to show him what she could do.

With a touch of flair...

... and a cheeky grin, she mixed his drink.

"This is good.  Really good.  For a second there I was worried.  But you know your stuff.  I'll speak to the manager this evening, but come back tomorrow.  You should have yourself a job."



The next evening, Scheherazade made sure to get to the bar early,  No customers would be waiting for her to arrive.  The manager let her in and smiled at her.  "You know, sweetheart, it doesn't start buzzing until later."  Scheherazade looked at the eccentric fellow in his pirate hat, "That's OK, sir - I'll be ready when it does start!"  She started enthusiastically cleaning the glasses.

It kept her bust while she waited...

 ... and waited.  "Hey, Boss-man.  Is anybody going to show up?"
As she asked, the door opened and the former Mixologist walked in - wearing a bathrobe.
"A drink for my girlfriend," he called out as he came in through the door.
"A bit presumptuous, don't you think?" laughed Scheherazade.
He laughed back, "No, not you.  My girlfriend will be here in a few minutes.  We'll be flying straight off once we've had something to drink."  He sat himself at the bar, while Scheherazade started making the drink.

CRASH!

Scheherazade could not believe her eyes.  That woman was inhuman!  Not that being human seemed to be a norm in this town, but - she was downright monstrous!

"Are you sure this was a good idea?  The girl looks incompetent," snarls the woman.
"Yes, angel, I'm sure.  It'll be worth it.  Trust me."

"Muh... my mistake.  Must have not dried my hands off properly.  Let me clean that up and fix you another."

"There you go.  Hope you enjoy it." Scheherazade presented the wolf woman with the drink.
'Doubt it," came the growled response.

"This is.. this is... really good."
"I told you so, my angel."

Scheherazade breathed a sigh of relief.  She would be alright, after all.

Later that night, the bar was hopping with activity.  Including some of the most excitable customer Scheherazade could imagine.

Eventually, nobody was left except for her manager.
"Scher, we have made a killing today.  You should probably head home and rest."

When she got home it was all Schereazade could do to drag herself into bed.  Nary a chore was done, though she thought about it as she drifted off.  But it had been a good day.  She felt like she had been noticed.

Perhaps she was more correct than she realized.


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Generation One: Revealed
Family Structure: ?
Number of children: ?
Primary Income: Mixologist
Secondary Income(s): ?
Generation Goal: ?
Miscellaneous Fun: ?

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Random Bonus Shot:

Not much can be said for the intelligence of the Mixologists at the other bars in town.